I Could Never Rescue You
by Jesse Falling
Summary: This was supposed to have been easy. They were made for each other, meant for each other. But they were, after all, only human. Mistake-making, stupid, jealous, greedy humans who loved each other so much it hurt.
1. I

_My first seemingly plotless piece. To be updated every or every other day. I hope you like it. I own nothing. -JF_

Day 3

"Perhaps, if you feel you need a change, if you feel that will help, I can file for a different—"

"It's not about another shrink," Brennan interrupted stoically. "It's not about another compromise."

"Then why are you here?" Sweets asked her, searching her face for some kind of indicator.

She was completely unreadable. She sat with her hands in her lap, her legs crossed, her back straight as it always was. She always carried herself well. Even when she was delivering unbelievable news. "I thought it would be considerate to tell you."

Sweets shook his head, unable to comprehend what she was telling him. "When was this decision reached?"

"Yesterday."

"And you and Agent Booth came to this conclusion together?"

"We agree, yes."

"That wasn't my question, Doctor Brennan," Sweets half-chastised.

"I hate psychology."

"And yet, here you are." Sweets leaned forward, putting his forearms on his knees. "Doctor Brennan, I believe you're making a huge mistake."

"No one asked you," she said matter-of-factly. "What you _think_ doesn't hold weight anymore, Doctor Sweets. You can't hold splitting us up over our heads anymore."

"You will both be very unhappy."

"It doesn't matter," she quickly retorted.

Sweets knew he couldn't outwardly analyze her. It would just make her angry, and it wouldn't get them anywhere. He tried very hard not to be the psychologist, but rather the friend. The friend who knew this was a horrible idea. "Since when does your happiness not matter?" he asked quietly, softly.

"It's not a relevant factor."

"I can't see that."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Doctor Sweets. The way you look at the world is far too soft. You've had the wrong idea about me and Booth since the beginning."

Sweets shook his head again. "I don't understand, Doctor Brennan. Your and Agent Booth's partnership has thrived for _years_. And my so-called 'idea' about your partnership has changed as your relationship has changed. Which is bound to happen. How have I been wrong?"

"The first time we met you, you said that we complement each other."

"You do," Sweets said, acknowledging this as a given. "You always have."

Brennan stood up and turned for the door. "And that's where you've always been wrong," she said with her back to him. And then she left.

XXXXX

The difference between Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan was never more painfully obvious than when Booth sat in the chair Brennan had occupied only a few hours before. His knees bounced up and down with impatience and his arms were folded across his chest. His face bore the clear message of "back off". Unlike Doctor Brennan, he was very easy to read.

He was in pain.

"I don't get why I'm here," Booth said in a gruff voice.

"While you and Doctor Brennan have tried the 'I don't see the problem' excuse many times before, Agent Booth, I don't believe you this time. You know exactly why you're here."

"Doctor Brennan came and talked to you," Booth said with a sigh, though he didn't seem resentful.

But Sweets was taken aback. "'Doctor Brennan'?" he repeated.

Booth raised his eyebrows. "What? That _is_ her name, isn't it?" He was looking at Sweets like he was a complete idiot.

Sweets very badly wanted to analyze the usage of Doctor Brennan's given name and nickname aloud for Booth's benefit, and explain to him what this suggested, though the meaning was obvious. But he wasn't here to talk psychobabble with Booth. He was here to save them.

"Yes, she came in a few hours ago."

"…and? Why am I here?"

"Because I believe you're making a huge mistake," Sweets said for the second time that day.

"Yeah, well, nobody asked you."

"Look, Agent Booth, it's not officially my business anymore—"

"—And it wouldn't be anyway—"

"—but I believe very strongly that both you and Doctor Brennan will be extremely unhappy if you go through with this. It's a _mistake_."

Booth looked at him for a silent moment, and Sweets began to think maybe something was sinking in.

"…are you done now? Can I go?" Booth asked rudely, gesturing to the door behind him, crushing Sweets' hopes of getting through his stubborn exterior. "Or do you have more judging of other people's lives to do?"

"I'm not judging, Agent Booth. I'm concerned," Sweets emphasized. "I'm concerned because I have absolutely no idea what is going on between the two of you."

"And you know why you don't know?" Booth asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "Because it's none of your business. Not anymore."

Unable to help it, Sweets slipped back into psychologist mode. "But there were absolutely no psychological indicators to suggest that there has been something wrong between the two of you. There was no unusual tension. There were no unresolved problems. You were just beginning to access the full potential of your partnership."

Booth stood up and turned for the door, just as Brennan had a few hours earlier. But then he turned around. "You know, Sweets, you're very good at what you do. I've learned to trust your expertise when it comes to catching murderers. But when it comes to me and Doctor Brennan," he said with another sigh, "you've never really been right."

"How?" Sweets asked. Again. But the answer he got this time was very different.

"I loved her, Sweets," he said, as though it were a simple fact Sweets had merely been overlooking.

"Then why are you doing this?" he asked immediately, though he was shocked by the confession and the use of past tense and a million other things.

Booth took a moment before answering. Sweets guessed he had been asking himself the same exact question. "Because it's all I can do."

"Did you tell her how you feel, Agent Booth?"

"Why else do you think this is happening?" Booth asked rhetorically, once again looking at Sweets like he was an idiot.

"Oh my god."

"What?" Booth asked, annoyed. He still stood, half turned towards the door.

"I just…I finally realized what's been going on," Sweets breathed, amazed he had missed it. He knew exactly what had happened.

"Good for you," Booth said, deadpan, as he turned fully to the door and left without a backwards glance.


	2. II

Day 1

It was one of those moments that had been becoming more and more frequent—where they would be very nice to one another for no reason at all. They stood in her office, laughing quietly at something he had said as all the other lights in the lab were automatically turned off. He held out her jacket for her and she slipped into it, still laughing a little to herself. They were gathering their things, and they couldn't stop smiling.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed as she checked her messages one last time. The lab was completely still except for them, and they both had to admit they liked that feeling very much.

"Who did you call?" she asked with a vague interest once she had finished her task.

"Thai food," he said smugly, putting his hands in his pockets. He knew she couldn't resist Thai food.

"How much?" she asked him suspiciously. The invitation was unspoken but acknowledged.

He just smiled. "Enough for four people, so you and I will probably end up fighting over the last few bites of Pad Thai."

"We spend too much time together," she said with a laugh as the grabbed the last of her things and a box of files. He took the box from her and smiled at her cute resentment of his helpfulness. Old habits die hard.

"You're not sick of me, are you?" he asked with mock despair as she turned off the light to her office. They were going to have to make their way to the parking lot in complete darkness.

"Of course not, I'm just worried about our social lives. I barely talk to anyone I don't work with. My best friend is my partner, and not only am I friends with the people I work with, but the people I work with are my only frien—"

"Whoa whoa whoa there, Bones," he said, turning to face her and putting his hands on her shoulders to stop her. "I thought Angela was your best friend."

"She is."

"But you just said—"

"Can't I have more than one?" she asked defensively as she walked around him to continue to the parking lot in the darkness.

"Well no, not really, because you know, 'best' implies that there's only one, and while I'm flattered by the title I don't think Angela would be so happy to hear that she has to share."

"Are you kidding? She'd be thrilled."

"Hey, Bones," he said, jogging a little to catch up with her. "You really consider me your best friend?"

"One of them."

"Okay, fine, _one_ of your best friends?"

"I don't see why this comes as a surprise to you, Booth. I spend seventy-five percent of my time with you and I tell you everything. We're honest with each other and we get along very well." She stopped, hearing him laugh a few paces behind her. "What? What's so funny?"

"It's just that it's so unlike you to give that kind of title. I always figured you used it with Angela because she _made_ you."

"Friendship is one of the most important parts of society, Booth. And besides, it's one of the few things in my life that has never let me down." Her voice sounded minutely sad and he knew the source. Too many times her family had let her down. Her friends _were_ her family. He was her family.

"Friendship and science, huh Bones?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. This was a new thing he'd been doing a lot recently. But she didn't complain.

"Exactly," she nodded, her voice sounding lighter again. There was a moment of silent walking until Booth's stomach growled. She laughed. "You should take better care of yourself."

"Bones, we worked the case for 48 hours straight. So-rry if I forgot a meal, oh Princess-of-all-things-healthy." They had reached the parking lot, and she laughed again as she took the box of files from him and put them in her car. "Maybe you should pack me lunches," he mused. "You know, turkey and mayonnaise loaded with lettuce…"

"I'm not going to do that and you know I don't have any turkey anyway, Booth," she said, closing the rear driver's side door and leaning against it.

He took her hand suddenly in the darkness and pulled her away from the car. "Come on, Bones," he said, as if he suddenly had the best idea ever.

"Where are we going?"

"To my car. It's at the back of the lot." He turned around, but kept walking, keeping her in tow. "You know, I should get a parking spot here."

"You don't work here, Booth. And why do I need to go to your car?" she asked as he dragged her along playfully.

"Because I'm taking you home. To my house. For Thai food."

"I have my own car."

"Aw come on, Bones, be friendly to the environment."

"My car is much more eco-friendly than your government-issued clanker."

"Clunker, Bones. It's called a clunker." But he didn't make an argument in his defense. When they reached his car, she got in without further argument. Time spent with Booth was never necessarily a bad thing. And the last case had been a tough one.

Though she would have liked to deny everything between them, it was no secret that the lines of their partnership had long ago been blurred beyond recognition by their friendship. They were one in the same for a long time, and now the professional part of their relationship was slipping away, replaced by the closest friendship Brennan had ever experienced. She would have also liked to deny that she loved every moment of it. But she loved it. She really, really did.


	3. III

Forty-five minutes later, empty Thai food take out boxes littered Booth's coffee table, and he and Brennan sat comfortably on his couch in silence. Booth stole a long glance at his partner's serene face and smiled to himself, then sighed.

"You know, Bones, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Well you certainly wouldn't catch as many murders, that's for sure," she said with a slight smile.

"You doubt my abilities?"

"Of course not, Booth. Separate, we simply couldn't do what we do together."

Booth sighed contentedly as he slung his arm around her shoulders and drew her to his chest in a playful hug. "You wouldn't know what to do with yourself without my spectacular FBI superpowers," he said, releasing her immediately. "You'd be stuck in your lab all day…you'd never see the light of day or breathe unpurified air…"

"Well then I guess it's a good thing you're not going anywhere," she said as she wrapped the green throw blanket that always hung over the arm of the couch around her shoulders.

"Yeah, no, I'm not going anywhere."

They slipped back into a thoughtful silence.

"Booth," she nearly whispered after a few moments. His eyes were closed, but he raised his eyebrows at the sound of his name. "What would you do if I died?"

His eyes shot open, and he looked at her with a bottomless concern on his face. "Why do you ask?" His voice was suddenly very serious, but it was gentle.

But he knew why she was asking. Their last case had been what some would have called tragic, but what Brennan called ridiculous and irrational. The victim's wife had committed suicide soon after learning about her husband's murder. A note was left saying there was simply no reason to live in a world where her husband didn't exist. Brennan had ranted and raved about the weak, dependent role many females are expected to play and how that unnecessary expectation was what killed the victim's wife. Booth had claimed lamely that it was true love, although he admitted it was a little too Romeo and Juliet for his tastes. _I always hated that play_, she had agreed with a nod.

"That woman, Booth. She was a romantic. And it killed her. But then I know that you're a romantic of sorts, and I know that you wouldn't kill yourself if Rebecca died."

"Rebecca and I aren't married."

"I know, but you love her."

"I used to," Booth corrected. "There's a difference. But you knew that because you didn't ask what I'd do if Rebecca died. You asked what I'd do if _you_ died."

"I'm not saying that you love me, Booth, it's just that I was trying to think of what I would do if the people in my life I cared about died, and—"

"But we already know what you'd do if I died, Bones," he interrupted her. "You would go about your business and you would think my funeral was a waste of time." There was a slight edge of accusation to his voice. They had been over this before, but neither was exactly willing to forget the betrayal they felt done to them by the other. Booth, for "dying" in her place; Brennan, for not seeming to care.

But this time Brennan didn't come back with an answer right away. She looked down in her lap, readjusted the blanket around her shoulders. "It would be different."

"Because you already thought I was dead once, it'd be different if it happened again? God I hope so 'cause last time it was a bit of a disappointment."

"No, it'd be different because it wouldn't be my fault."

"It wasn't your fault the first time."

She just looked at him. She was not arguing this point again, and he could tell. "It won't be my fault. I won't let it be my fault," she said, looking away from him. There was a certain resolve in her voice and eyes that confused him. He tried not to scoff. As if she could ever stop him from protecting her.

But the tone of the conversation had gotten way off track. He didn't want to argue with her. He made her face him again. "Hey," he said gently. "I'm not dying any time soon."

She nodded. "You never answered my question. Not if I was killed, just if I died. Like in a freak accident or from a disease."

"I don't know what I'd do," he answered promptly. It was the easy way out, the lame excuse. But he didn't want to face the real answer. Not now.

"Yes you do," she said, calling him out.

Booth sighed. "Well I sure as hell wouldn't kill myself, that's for sure."

Brennan nodded. "Good. But I already knew that."

He shifted in his corner of the couch. "I don't know what I'd do," he said again. But he stopped her before she demanded a real answer. "No, I mean that, if you died, I would probably end up sitting here with no idea what to do with myself or how to even comprehend the idea that you're gone."

There. He had answered her question. Now they could move on.

"But you survived just fine before we were partners, before we were friends," she argued.

"Yeah, well, some things change," he said shortly, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen. He was very done talking about this. He opened the fridge to get a beer, but changed his mind and closed it. Then he walked over to the cabinet to get a glass, but decided halfway there he wasn't thirsty at all. He ended up just resting his palms on the edge of the counter and hanging his head with a sigh, only to immediately pace back to the fridge.

Brennan sat very still on the couch, listening to him restlessly move around the kitchen. She had aggravated him, she could tell. But she hadn't meant to. She just wanted to know.

"Booth?" she called quietly.

"Yeah," he answered shortly, still out of sight.

"I cried when they told me you were dead. I cried more than I have my entire life."

Booth came back to the threshold of the living room. He didn't say anything. Brennan looked at him for a moment, trying to think of something else she could say. He looked about as surprised as she felt. She had promised herself she'd never tell him that.

He took a few steps into the living room and slowly sat down on the couch, a little closer to her. "Well, we're partners," he offered as an excuse.

"You took the bullet that was meant for me."

"Once," he quoted her with a humorless laugh. "That only goes so far."

She wrapped the throw blanket tighter around her. "I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be."

"I am."

"Don't be."

"Why not?"

"Because it's true. And I'd gladly take any bullet for you," he said, grabbing her hand and giving it a quick squeeze. Reluctantly, he released it immediately.

"I wish you wouldn't."

Booth simply shrugged and smiled at her. "Luckily for me, you don't get a say in the matter."

She laughed a little and shook her head. "Sometimes I think you're crazy." She looked him in the eyes then, repeating herself from long ago. "And sometimes I think you're very nice."

"Not just nice," he said, leaning back comfortably. "_I_…am your best friend," he claimed proudly.

"I still don't see why it's such a big deal to you, Booth."

"Well, you know, it's always been 'she's my partner' this, and 'we're just partners' that. It's nice to have a little change."

"So are you going to start correcting people by telling them we're best friends?" she asked sarcastically, trying to imagine it.

"That," he said, poking her shoulder, "is exactly what I'm going to do."

"I think that will just make it worse."

"Well yeah, but it'll be FUN!" he exclaimed, suddenly very excited.

She could do nothing but laugh at him. She didn't deserve to have a friend like him, a partner like him. He was too perfect. Too good to be true. And for a moment, Brennan forgot herself and reached out to touch Booth's face as he smiled in an almost boyish, shameless excitement. Then the moment was gone, and they both froze in the reality of what was happening. For once, she had reached out to him. And suddenly the mood of the room shifted, the course of their conversation veered to the left and their relationship took a swan dive into the unknown.

She pulled her hand away, and it felt like all of the air, all of the light, had been sucked out of the room with that gesture. "Sorry," she said quickly, avoiding his eyes.


	4. IV

He tried to catch her hand, but missed. "Don't be," he said yet again. But she was already getting up off the couch. He knew this would happen. Everyone knew this would happen. He had been through this situation ten thousand times in his mind and every one had only been slightly different: the setting, the precise words, the exact movements. But it was inevitable that she would run from him like the plague. And every time he had to chase her down.

Booth stood up after her. "Bones," he said lightly, grabbing her wrist and turning her slowly back around to face him. "Bones, don't go. Come on. Why so soon?"

"It's late, Booth," she said, turning to leave again.

"Hey, Bones, I'm not going to bite." He pulled her back.

"I know that."

"You only think you know that. You only know that intellectually."

"I don't see the difference."

"Bones, come on. Stop running away. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Of course you wouldn't hurt me, Booth. I know that."

"You know I won't hurt you physically. I would never dream of it. But I would also never, ever hurt you emotionally." He hoped to God he wasn't pushing his luck. "Because I'm your best friend," he added to soften the sincerity.

Of course she knew he had hit the nail on the head, but there was no way she was about to admit it out loud. "It's late," she hesitantly repeated. Her walls had been slowly crumbling every moment she spent with him. They were weak, and in some places nonexistent. But she could feel the part of herself begging to be loved trying to burst through the thickest of all the walls. And it was about to succeed.

She needed to leave. Right now.

"Booth, I…"

She didn't bother to even attempt to keep talking. Because Booth, ever so slowly, leaned forward, and that part of her that longed for love screamed at her to shut the hell up.

His heart raced, and yet he was calm. She was looking at him with eyes full of uncertainty and he reassured her by being absolutely sure of himself. He kissed her very softly on the lips. Just one kiss, and then he stood up straight, looking over her head for a moment.

Her hands had reached up on their own and rested themselves on his hips. She looked down, at his chest, completely unsure of what she was supposed to do, what she wanted to do, what he wanted her to do.

She had two options: Step back, call it a mistake and have it be a barrier in their partnership forever, or kiss him back and never work with him again.

She didn't realize how long she had stayed silent until Booth spoke.

"Bones?" he asked quietly. "You mind letting me in on just a little bit of what you're thinking?"

They had shared too much this evening to start lying now. But she still stared at his chest. "I have two choices, Booth. Either I leave now and let our partnership suffer, or I stay and end it completely."

There was another moment of silence.

"…what do you want to do?"

She looked up, and he met her gaze. "This feeling will go away," she said as an answer.

Booth shook his head. Brennan tried to step back out of his arms, but he kept his arms around her. "No it won't, Bones." There was a kind of sorrow in his voice. "It won't."

She tried again to step back, and this time he let her go. "It always does, Booth. What makes this time different?" Her words were harsh, but her voice was heavy with a deep sadness. She didn't want to believe this feeling would fade. It didn't feel like it would. But she could not destroy this solid partnership, this deep friendship, for something ephemeral.

Booth thought for a moment, shifted his weight, and then stepped forward to be very close to her again. He rested his hands very lightly at her waist. "Look, Bones. I'm here. Feel me, smell me, see me. I'm right here." Her hand came up and rested on his chest, following his words. "I understand the way you see the world, in statistics and social generalizations and rationality. I understand what's important to you." She had looked away again, and he brought her back to face him. "But I want you to hear me out." He shifted his weight again, found his courage. "You always say that feelings are ephemeral. Fleeting. Transient. But it's shallow."

"Shallow?" she repeated, fazed by the harsh word.

"Bones, we have discussed so many different relationships, and you know what I've noticed? The cold, scientific way you look at things? It's shallow. And I know why. I know that it's because you're afraid to be hurt again. It's no secret. _Everyone_ knows that. But no one will tell you what they think because they're afraid of you. But I'm not afraid of you, Bones. I was for a long time, but I'm not anymore. I'm not afraid to tell you that I hate the way you see relationships. You make it hard to be understanding of your situation. And I'm not just saying this to make you angry, Bones. I've grown out of that. I'm telling you because I care. And I want you to know that this bleak outlook on relationships is keeping you from true happiness."

"How can _you_ be so sure?" she asked, arms crossed against her chest. She was on the defensive.

But Booth wasn't pulling any crap. He gave her the answer straight up. "Because I could love you."

They had both been terrified that this was where the conversation was headed. And there it was. Ta da.

"But I don't."

She had looked down, but her eyes shot back up to his, with a sort of ironic sadness in them. "Why not?" she asked quietly.

"Because I'm not going to love you when I know you'll be too afraid to love me back, Bones."

She looked down again, and his voice was suddenly gentle once more. "There's no point in climbing out on that limb if you won't follow me. I wish you would. God, I wish you would…but I know you won't. Even though you _know_ how much I could love you. I know you do."

"But the feeling will fade," she insisted quietly.

"Don't doubt me, Temperance," he said roughly. Sincerely.

She was quiet for a long time, and when she looked up, her eyes were especially green and held the threat of tears. Finally she weakened. "What do you want from me, Booth?"

"I want you to realize what you could have. I can't make you feel anything. And I'm not going to beg. But here I am. I could love you in a way that would change us both forever, but only if you let me. And if you won't, then I just have to accept that, and let you go. I don't want to let you go, but if I have to, I will."

The thought hurt her. She didn't want to be let go of. He continued.

"I can't make your decisions for you. I can't make you feel. I don't have that kind of power, and I'm glad I don't. Because it's your call."

"…but you said you knew I wouldn't, that I _couldn't_ love you back," she observed helplessly.

"Because I can see that you're drowning in your own doubt, in your own fear." He sighed, brushing a bit of hair gently behind her ear. "And I could never rescue you."

He hoped she understood that for a man with a hero-complex like Booth it was a huge deal to admit that kind of defeat, of failure. Yes, it was partly an accusation, but it was also a confession.

"What do you mean?" she asked sadly but sincerely, truly wanting to understand what he was saying.

"I could love you, Temperance Brennan," he repeated himself, bringing his hands up to cradle her face and to make her look him in the eyes. "But if you don't want it, or you think you don't want it, or you don't need it, or you're afraid of it, I can't make you accept it. I can't make you love me back." He brought his lips tenderly to hers again, giving her another chance. But she did not respond.

He dropped his hands slowly and took a step back out of her personal space. She seemed stunned, frozen, that look of complete concentration etched into every corner of her face. He had to give her time. And not just a few minutes. But it was his apartment.

"Okay, Bones," he said, keeping his voice muted like it had been before. "I'm gonna go to bed. You know where I am. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. The keys are on the kitchen table if you want to drive yourself home."

She just nodded, avoiding his eyes.

"Goodnight, Bones."

As he walked down the hallway, he saw her sink slowly back onto the couch.


	5. V

The truth was, she felt attacked. Like everything she was had been put up for criticism. Like she had been stripped down and put under the microscope and blinding white lights.

Shallow?

Didn't he remember when she had told him she wanted to believe in love the way he did? And he had promised she would, eventually.

But then he tells her she's shallow and he knows she won't change. Maybe he was right. Of course he was. But she wished he weren't.

For some reason, Brennan had always been preparing herself for this situation with Booth. He claims he loves her and she has to find some way around him without hurting him. She has to find some way to keep that friendship without letting it go any farther. She cares too much.

But this had been a complete surprise. Technically, he never said he loved her. He only said he _could_. It was a possibility. It wasn't some proclamation of undying devotion she had to run away from. He wasn't bullying her into admitting her feelings. He wasn't telling her what she felt. He didn't beg her to return his feelings. But_ if_ she did, he _could_ love her back.

He didn't tell her everything good about her, everything flawed that he loved and everything perfect that he adored. For some reason that seemed like it would have been more Booth's style. She had always thought that he had been planning out this moment to be absolutely perfect, and yet what it ended up being was real. It wasn't contrived. It wasn't a scene out of a movie.

He had insulted her, offered her a life of happiness, and left her alone to make the decision.

Brennan closed her eyes and sighed a heavy sigh. He cared too much for her, and she did not deserve it. Booth was upstanding, righteous, courageous and strong. He was honest and beautiful in everything he did and everything he was. Brennan recognized him for the man he was and was terrified by what he could mean for her.

Not the happiness they could share, but the pain she would cause. And because of the monster she knew was within her, she wanted so very badly to run. To save him.


	6. VI

**Day 2**

He wasn't surprised to find that both his partner and his keys were gone when he woke up the next morning. Still, he couldn't help but feel the biting sting of rejection. He had let himself hope that she'd still be there, either asleep on his couch or sitting at the table still trying to think everything through. But if she had made her decision, it wouldn't have taken long. That was a drawback of dealing with a genius. She could make life-changing decisions within seconds and be completely sure of herself.

Booth went about his normal morning routine, cleaning up the take-out boxes from the night before and making himself the perfect cup of coffee. He read the newspaper without really reading it. He couldn't help but try to think what he could have done differently. But he knew that no matter what he had said, when the time came to face the purple elephant in the room, she would run. It didn't matter what he said or how long he waited.

But he did feel bad for lying to her. That whole "I don't love you" deal…what a load of crap.

He phoned for a cab, hoping he'd find his car and his partner at the Jeffersonian.

XXXXX

She didn't know exactly where she was going. She was normally a very careful and observant driver, and although she was still aware of the cars around her and the road before her, the signs passed in a blur and the speedometer inched towards 90.

Brennan kept trying to tell herself that she was driving in order to think, not to get away. She was a reasonable enough woman to face problems like these; she just needed a little time was all. Time to think. Time to practice the conversation in her mind. Time to wonder, time to dream.

"_I could love you in a way that would change us both forever."_

Change was inevitable. And desirable. If we don't change, if we don't adapt, we die. We lose.

And Brennan knew all too well what was at stake here.

Why was it that the moment it seemed that everything was right between them, Booth had to go and _ruin_ it with his _stupid_ over-emotional nature and _idiotic_ romantic ideals? Why couldn't he have just left well enough alone? Why couldn't he have just kept his _stupid_ feelings to himself? No, he just _had_ to bring up all this _crap_ that she'd been trying to ignore for _years_ and force her to deal with things she had already set aside, knowing there was too much _risk_ involved. Why was he such an _idiot?_ It _wouldn't_ work between them; it would _never_ work between them. They had told other people _exactly_ that, time and time again. And it was the _truth_. They worked together. They worked together. They worked together. And they could _never_ be _anything_ more.

Never, ever, ever.

The road before her blurred beyond recognition and Brennan finally pulled over, only realizing after she was stopped that she couldn't see properly because of the angry tears welling in her eyes.

Stupid Booth. Stupid, idiotic, romantic, stupid Booth.

"_If you don't want it, or you think you don't want it, or you don't need it, or you're afraid of it, I can't make you accept it. I can't make you love me back."_

Brennan brushed the pointless tears away and restarted his car. For a man whom she had always considered a romantic, he could be brutal. Shallow, he called her. Well she called it intelligence and rationality. And if he didn't accept her for what she was, then he could just shove it. Stupid Booth.

"_I could love you in a way that would change us both forever, but only if you let me. And if you won't, then I just have to accept that, and let you go."_

As the speedometer crept back into the 80s, she had to ask herself why the hell she was so set on driving in a straight line away from him. Especially when he told her it was okay if she didn't return his feelings. That he couldn't make her feel anything for him and wouldn't try. That he would accept her answer, whatever it was. But what would he do then? Go about business as usual? That couldn't possibly be what "let you go" meant. And what it _did_ mean was a horrible, unbelievable, painful thought.

XXXXX

He was surprised to see that his car was not in her parking spot at the Jeffersonian, nor was it at the back of the lot to spite him. He had thought he'd find her here hiding behind her work. It's what she always did. No way was she anywhere else.

"Cam, have you seen Bones?" Booth asked as he entered through the sliding glass doors into the lab.

Cam, halfway up the platform, stopped and turned. "Nope, she hasn't been in yet." Then she smirked a little. "I heard she went home with you." She turned back around and continued up the platform steps. "Don't tell me you've lost my forensic anthropologist, Seeley."

"She didn't call about not coming into work?"

"Nope."

"And you didn't try to reach her?" he prodded, swiping his card and joining her on the platform.

"Like I said, I heard she went home with you. I didn't want to call." She smiled a huge smile. "I was too proud."

"Yeah, that's great, Camille. Do you not see the problem here? I'm fine that she wants to take a day off, and I can give her space. But she has my _car_."

Cam laughed. Actually laughed. Hard. "She took off in _your car_? I always used to think it was cute when you were nervous," she smiled. "It was that bad?"

"Give it a rest, Camille. It's wasn't—" He was interrupted by his phone. Hoping it was Brennan, he hurried to answer. "Booth."

"Booth, what the HELL are you doing in Canada?!" a big, loud, angry voice came from the tiny phone. "What the HELL do you think you're doing?"

"Canada?"

"Don't you dare play dumb, Booth. You've been driving like a maniac since two this morning. GPS doesn't lie. Now get your ass back in the States."

"Sir, I'm at the Jeffersonian," Booth said calmly into the phone, looking to Cam for a bit of back up.

"Doctor Camille Saroyan here," she said loud enough for Booth's boss to hear. "Agent Booth is here at the Jeffersonian."

"Well then who the hell has your car, Agent Booth?" his boss asked, his calm question far more frightening than his yelling. "Did someone get the drop on you and steal your government-issued armored vehicle, Agent Booth?"

"No, Sir. No." Booth turned around, pacing slightly. "Doctor Brennan has my car," he said, wincing, awaiting the wrath he knew was coming.

"The lady scientist?"

"…yeah."

"Well what the hell is SHE doing in Canada, and WHY the hell did she take the FBI's car?"

"I will find out as soon as possible, Sir, I promise. Just give me a little time to talk to her."

"Get that car back in the States at the _very_ least, Agent Booth," his boss said with slight distain, hanging up.

Booth closed his phone and turned back around to face Cam. She looked slightly amused, but uncertain of how serious the situation was. "How much trouble are you in?"

"Not sure," he answered curtly, opening his phone again, but hesitating over her speed dial button. Cam, of course, noticed.

"What did you do to her?" Cam asked gently. They had all known it would happen eventually. She put a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off, pressing Brennan's number and walking back down the platform steps. "What do you think I did, Camille?" he asked rhetorically over his shoulder.


	7. VII

It was snowing. Because it was far too cold to rain. But rain would have been much more fitting to her mood at the moment. Not because it was like tears, like the writer inside her may have thought, but rather because it was unpleasant. Uncomfortable. Made people miserable.

Snow was soft. Pretty.

The one thing that did fit was the cold. Out of gas, out of energy, out of will, Brennan had pulled into a parking lot and now sat, staring tearlessly at a windshield fogged with her own breath and body heat. She shivered, and wrapped her arms tighter around herself.

She jumped when her phone rang. It was Booth. Of course it was Booth. She had his car.

"Hi Booth," she answered slowly.

"Bones," he breathed like a sigh of relief. "You're in Canada."

She winced a little on his behalf. "Did you get an angry call from your boss?"

"I did."

She laughed a little, despite her growing desire to burst into tears at the sound of his voice. "I'm really sorry. I just…couldn't stop."

He didn't answer for a few seconds. "Bones, can you please come back into the United States?" he asked softly. "You don't have to come back to DC. Just back in the continental forty-eight."

"Okay," she answered softly.

"Thank you," he sighed, and hung up.

Brennan slowly put her phone away, put the key back in the ignition, and made her way back. But she still needed time. To think. To decide. To rehearse. To change her mind. To convince herself it was the only way. To find a way out. To lie to herself.

XXXXX

Booth, for the lack of anywhere else in the Jeffersonian to sit comfortably, had retreated into Brennan's empty office. He sat on her couch, breathed a heavy sigh, let his head fall back and his eyes close.

What did he do to her?

Good question, Camille. Good question.

If he were honest with himself, it hadn't really been the right time. Everything had seemed to be falling comfortably into place. She had been warming up to him. They had really begun to make progress. But when _would_ have been a good time?

_Never_, the Bones in the back of his mind hissed at him. Booth scrubbed his hand over his tired, unshaven face. She was right, as usual.

But how could he live with _never_? How could he look at himself in the mirror knowing that he had the chance and missed her completely? When they were reassigned, as it was inevitable, his chance would be gone. Right? He could wait and wait and wait and then die saving her from others before he got the chance to save her from herself.

And that's why now was a good time. …right?

Angela, bursting into the office, disrupted his thoughtful silence. "Tell me everything," she barked at him. Before turning to look at her, Booth couldn't tell whether he was in trouble or not, but when he turned to face her, she was smiling ear to ear.

Angela sat herself down next to him on the couch, and looked at him expectantly, eyes wide. Booth was silent for a moment, unsure what to say.

"What?" he finally asked.

Angela sighed, exasperated and frustrated. "Don't you dare 'what' me. You know what."

"Nothing happened, Angela."

"The hell nothing happened! Stop lying to me. I'm all-knowing anyway," Angela said, rolling her eyes.

"If you're all knowing, then why are you attacking me?"

"I only know the facts. I know that Brennan left with you last night. I know that now she has your car, and somehow got to Canada with it without you. I know that you're worried about her and I know that Brennan wouldn't take off like that unless this was _big_. Because typically, she hides in her work. She's a hider. Not a runner. But right now she's running, and my best guess is that she's running away from _you_."

"So…what do you need to know from me? You've got the basics," Booth said, standing up.

But Angela caught his arm and yanked him back down. "Oh, no you don't."

"What?" Booth asked again.

"Would you stop that and tell me what happened?" Angela asked, the sincerity in her voice finally showing through. The smile was gone. She needed to know if her best friend was okay. Booth could see that and respect that.

"I told her."

"Told her what," Angela asked flatly, knowing what was coming.

"I told her I love her."

"Details," she demanded.

"Not in so many words. But I said that I _could_, if she'd love me back. And then I said some crap about knowing that she never would, and not wanting to change that…" he trailed off.

"So you lied to her while telling her you love her?" Angela asked, disbelieving. That was very un-Booth.

Booth was silent for a long moment, thinking hard, wanting desperately to answer honestly. "No," he finally answered with a definitive shake of his head. "No, it's the truth."

"The truth is you don't love her?"

"Not like this," Booth answered heavily. "No."


	8. VIII

_Hello, how are you, hope you're enjoying the story so far. Just a little note here: Please pay attention to the "Day"s. The first chapter was Day 3, and now we're back to that. But the rest of Day 2 is yet to come. (I have this inability to tell stories in chronological order…) Hope that cleared any confusion up! Please enjoy. -JF_

**Day 3**

Of course Sweets could see that Agent Booth loved Doctor Brennan. It was just a shock to hear him say it, so plainly, like it was a fact he had accepted long ago. That was the surprise. Everyone, Sweets included, thought that loving each other was something neither of them could admit.

In addition, Booth's confession of sorts just made everything that much more confusing. Because they put work and their working partnership before everything else. And that's why they had never gotten together. That's why they'd spent all this time being in love and had never done anything about it. That was the reason.

And now that reason was gone.

But they still weren't happy.

At the very least, they could have chosen one option. But both were gone. They weren't speaking to each other, nor were they working together. It was like the whole purpose of them existing was gone.

How could that be possible? How could they have let this happen?

Though technically Sweets was the completely objective third party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter, he couldn't help but feel abandoned by the people he thought so highly of. He admired them, admired their friendship, their partnership…everything.

And it was all slipping away.

And he couldn't rescue them.

XXXXX

The same hardened look dominated Booth's features when Sweets knocked on the transparent door. He let himself in and silently stood before the agent's desk, holding his breath.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Yes?" he asked expectantly.

Sweets loudly exhaled, surprised he had been holding it in. Then he shrugged. "It's not my job to save you."

"Save me?" Booth asked.

"Well, 'you' as in the plural. As in you and Doctor Brennan."

"Because it's not your business anymore. Which is what I told you. Why are you here?" Booth asked curtly, sitting down behind his desk and grabbing the rubber ball sitting in front of him.

Sweets watched as Booth's knuckles turned white as he wrapped his huge, strong hand around the helpless rubber ball. But Booth's face was expressionless.

After a tense moment, Sweets spoke again. "Do you mind if I ask you something, Agent Booth?"

"Does it matter if I say no?"

"I guess not," Sweets said, and continued before Booth threw him out. "You said that you told her how you feel."

"Felt," Booth corrected.

"Felt," Sweets amended without asking questions. "Now, you know how sensitive she is. You know what triggers her back into her protective emotional state better than anyone. You of all people should have been able to avoid that. Where do you think you failed?"

"Failed?" Booth asked, disbelieving. "So this is all because I'm some great big failure, not because she's too fragile for her own good and too afraid of me and the rest of mankind to get over it? It's because I _failed_?"

Sweets said nothing.

Booth leaned back in his chair, throwing the rubber ball with incredible force against the wall to his side and catching it in the other hand. He balled his fist around it again and his knuckles were even whiter. Sweets stared at them.

"How the hell is it my fault now?"

"Booth, we all trusted you with Doctor Brennan."

"What?"

"We trusted you to handle her with care. To bring her in slowly."

"What are you talking about? Who's 'we'?"

Sweets shrugged. "All of us. Cam, Angela, Hodgins, even Max and Russ."

"Like you all decided to _give_ her to me?"

"I suppose you could think of it that way."

"I don't want to _think of it that way_," Booth mocked him slightly. "You aren't making any sense."

Sweets finally sat down in the chair on the other side of Booth's desk and leaned forward. "It wasn't like it was put up to an official vote or anything, Agent Booth. It just happened. The exception being, of course, when Max _told_ you to take care of her."

"Because we are partners," Booth interjected.

"Were," Sweets corrected.

"Were," Booth amended, the hardened expression on his face faltering for a split second. Ah, yes. There it was. The pain Sweets saw there, though short lived, was undeniable.

"In the same way that Max trusted you with his daughter, we have all trusted you with our colleague, or rather, our friend. We all care very much about her wellbeing and trusted you enough to look after that."

Booth just stared at him, his knuckles somehow even whiter, but his face still expressionless.

"So the fact that this is all falling apart means that you misstepped," Sweets continued. "You messed up, Booth. You betrayed all of our trust."

Booth, angry, stood up. "So not only have I ruined her life, chased her away and lost my best friend, but I've let all of you down to top it all off?"

Sweets, completely unfazed, nodded.

"How the hell is it my fault?" he asked again, but this time he was not necessarily yelling at Sweets. "What was I expected to do?" he asked a bit more quietly, looking to Sweets for an answer. "Wait forever?"

"It's not my job to answer that for you," he said, hoisting himself up out of the chair and letting himself out.

"And calling me a failure and putting all the blame on me IS your job?!" Booth called angrily after him. "Sweets!" he growled, following him out. "Hey! Don't walk out on me like that!"

The anger and pain were fueling each other. As they walked quickly down the hallway, Booth grabbed Sweets' shoulder and pulled him forcefully backwards, slamming him against the wall and holding him there with his forearm on Sweets' chest, angrily waiting to suffocate the answers out of him.

"I. Didn't. Fail," Booth smoldered angrily in Sweets' face.

Though it was Sweets' nature to shrink away in silence, he spoke. "You don't believe that."

Booth released him for half a second and then slammed him against the wall again, the back of Sweets' head making a sickening crack against the wood-paneled wall. "Don't tell me what I believe," he growled. Then he released the doctor and walked back to his office.

Sweets was left with the curious and slightly amused stares of those in the office around him. No one offered to help him, no one asked if his head was alright. It was throbbing, not that anyone cared.

Though he was neither a weak nor sniveling man, tears stung at Lance Sweets' eyes. Part of it was the pain, the other was a reaction to the terrifying thing that was Booth's raw anger. He had come face to face with it, and though it was not unexpected, the pure power of it was surprising.

XXXXX

"Doctor Brennan, can I talk to you for a moment?" Dr. Sweets asked the woman whose back was facing him. She was staring intensely at the work before her, as she always did.

"Just a minute," she called distractedly over her shoulder.

"Doctor Brennan, it's important. Can't the guy from the Stone Age wait?"

"He died in the late 1700s. Not the Stone Age," she corrected. "And the fact that he wasn't murdered doesn't make him unimportant. This is my job. My job first, your job second, Doctor Sweets. You can wait in my office."

Angela leaned over to Sweets. "She's in a bad mood."

"Really. Couldn't tell," he answered flatly.

Angela shrugged and motioned slightly towards Brennan's office. It was the safest route, Sweets agreed, and made his way there.

He studied the artifacts and paintings that he had seen hundreds of times but had never had the time to really look at. He studied them for what felt like hours. And who knows what Booth could do to himself in that amount of time. And then his plan could be completely ruined.

Finally Doctor Brennan came in carrying five different files, seeming to have completely forgotten that the psychologist had been waiting for her. She headed straight to her desk without acknowledging his presence.

"Doctor Brennan?" he asked, his patience wearing thin.

"Yes, I remember that you're here, Sweets, but you'll have to come back another time," she said without looking at him, "I'm busy."

Sweets watched her read the file in her hands for a moment, and noticed her eyes stay fixed where they were. She wasn't reading it at all. Just avoiding him. Not that that was necessarily a surprise. "Doctor Brennan, it is very important that I speak with you."

"Is this about Booth?" she asked, finally looking at him.

"More or less."

She looked down again. "Then I don't have the time."

"You know how angry he can get. You've seen it before. When things hit too close to home."

Slowly, she looked up.

"But I guarantee you've never seen him this angry. Because it's fueled by the pain of losing _you_, Doctor Brennan. I doubt he's ever felt that kind of emotional pain before. And he's not handling it well. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I understand what you're saying, Sweets," she said calmly, "But I don't think what you're saying is true."

"Which part?"

"How much do you know?" she asked, setting the file down.

Sweets gave her the extremely short version. "Booth's romantic feelings for you came out into the open."

"And you're working under the assumption that when that happened, I ran."

"You did run," Sweets said, unsure where she was going with this. "You ran to _Canada_."

"But I came back."

"Obviously," Sweets said under his breath.

Brennan stood up abruptly. "Nevermind. It's none of your business anyway."

Sweets was yet again walked out on, kicking himself for not keeping her talking. She had obviously had a point. She came back. And he didn't know what that meant. "Wait, Doctor Brennan, please!" he called after her, following her out.

"Why are you doing this? Why won't you let this go?" she asked curtly.

"Because, well, first of all, you're my friends, and I care about the relationship that the two of you are completely throwing away. And second of all, it's my job. The fact that my two toughest patients are separating reflects on me as well. So if this divorce is actually going to take place, I can't do the paperwork until I have all the facts."

"Divorce?" Brennan asked, caught off guard by the word.

Sweets quickly filed the slip away to think about later, and outwardly ignored her question. "So please, Doctor Brennan, what did you mean when you said that you came back?"

She took a deep breath and half rolled her eyes. "I had reached the decision that was to be expected of me. But I could have changed my mind. I wanted to change my mind. But he wouldn't let me."


	9. IX

_Hello again. I feel it necessary to inform you that not everything the characters say or do is necessarily the truth. It's written with the idea and mind that no one is perfect and always says or thinks the right thing. I hope it comes across. Thanks, and enjoy. -JF_

**Day 2**

The snow had turned into rain as she drove farther south. Driving at the normal speed limit, it took nearly all day to get back, but eventually she was parked in front of Booth's apartment.

He had been waiting for her, and came out under the awning to greet her. Or to get his keys back. Or something.

Brennan folded her arms across her chest and ran through the pouring rain to where Booth stood. For a moment, neither said anything.

"Here are your keys," she finally said.

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble."

"Are you okay?" he asked, ignoring her apology.

"Yeah."

"So…where do we stand?" he asked without beating around the bush.

Brennan sighed. "I guess there's really only one place we can stand."

Booth nodded, looking down. "I figured as much."

They were silent for another moment. At some point Brennan realized she was crying. Then Booth realized it too.

"Why are you crying?" he asked gently.

Brennan sniffed, attempting to pull the tears back inside her face where they belonged. "I'm not crying."

As he would have whether or not their feelings had finally come into play, Booth wrapped his arms around his partner. He wouldn't argue the fact that she was crying, but seeing it made his chest hurt and the pain was slightly relieved when she was pressed against it.

If he had blown this whole thing to hell, the least he could do is hold her through the hardest part. "Do you want to come inside?" he offered. "It's freezing. And wet."

She shook her head again. "Are you going to kiss me again if I come inside?" She sounded almost disgusted. It was hilarious. Or at least as hilarious as something in this situation could be.

Booth laughed a little. "I can't make any promises," he said with a smile.

"Then I don't want to go inside."

"Aww, come on, Bones. I'm kidding. Come inside. I promise not to pull any crap with you," he said in his classically-Booth nonchalant way, putting his arm around her shoulders and turning her towards the entrance to his building.

Once inside his apartment for the second time in twenty-four hours, Brennan refused to sit down. She stood with her arms crossed, staring at the pictures of Booth and Parker that were placed on top of the television. From the kitchen Booth offered her a beer, but she declined. He came back empty-handed, deciding to stay exactly as sober as she was.

Booth sat on the arm of his couch and sighed. "Okay Bones. Are we going to talk about this?"

She turned around and looked at him. "I'd prefer not to."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Giving your car back."

"…and? What else?"

"Taking your feelings into account. Because while I would prefer not to talk about this, I know that it's not in your nature to compartmentalize, and because of that, leaving something like this unresolved will make you very uncomfortable. So we're going to talk about this."

Booth smiled a half-smile. "You_ do_ care."

"Yes. I realized that this isn't about me. Well, it's not _all _about me, that is."

"So…"

"So I've been thinking. And I've decided that you were right."

"About what?"

"About everything. That I'd be too afraid to love you and even more terrified of being loved back. That I'm too shallow for my own good and will therefore never get any kind of real happiness out of life. Satisfaction, sure. But not happiness." She paused for a moment, then went on. "So I think the best thing for us to do is to try to forget the past twenty-four hours and go back to the relationship we know. Can you do that?" she asked abruptly.

Surprised, Booth answered without thinking. "Yeah, sure…I guess."

"Great. So," she said as an end to the conversation, walking briskly to the door and opening it. "I'll see you tomorrow."

And then she was gone.

No. This was wrong. This was all wrong. No way was this happening. This wasn't her. This wasn't his Bones.

Booth found himself calling after her, running through the hallway and down the stairs of his apartment building.

"Bones! Bones!"

But she was already outside, in the rain, before she heard him. And when she did, she stopped where she was in the middle of the parking lot and turned to face him. Her calm mask had fallen. Now she was livid. Anger fueled by pain.

"What, Booth?" she asked angrily. "Would you like to insult me some more? Make more stupid assumptions about my nature? Question the purpose of my entire existence? What more do you want from me?"

"Bones, I didn't want to—"

"_Don't call me that_, Booth," she interrupted. "It's a sign of affection and I don't want your stupid affection anymore. Not when it doesn't mean anything."

"'Doesn't mean anything'?" he repeated, stepping into the pouring rain as well. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Can't you see what you did, Booth? God, for someone so perceptive you can be such an idiot!" The rain began to fall harder, but neither of them noticed. "You made this whole show of telling me you loved me. Finally. After all these years. But it was a _lie_. A big fat LIE to mask the insults that you were throwing my way."

She was soaked through, and began to shiver as the freezing raindrops dragged themselves across her scalp and the bare skin of her face and arms. "You stuck me under your narrow-minded microscope and drew conclusions before you had all the facts," she spat. "You screwed up, Booth." She looked him straight in the eyes. "You ruined everything."

"I gave you a choice!" he shouted over the rain.

Half laughing, Brennan threw her arms in the air and let them come crashing down at her sides in time with the thunder. "No you didn't!" she yelled back. "You told me that you knew I wouldn't change, that I was hopeless!" she stepped closer to him. "And if I didn't want you, that would have been just fine. But I do. I want that happiness with you, Booth, don't you get it? I just can't do it. I can't. But if you really loved me you wouldn't take no for an answer."

"That's not true," he started to argue.

"Well with me it is, Booth!" she rested her freezing hands on his shoulders. "You have to keep coming after me. Don't you see that?"

"Knowing that you'll never love me? No. I don't see that. I can't waste my time like that. It's bad for you, and bad for me."

"You are so selfish, Booth!"

"You're the one who won't give anything back, _Temperance_," he nearly sneered her name. "You expect me to never give up and yet _you're_ the one who never started trying in the first place!"

The look of pure shame on her face made him regret saying something so harsh. But she knew it was true, and that was why it hurt her so much. And he could see that.

He took her hands from his shoulders and held them in his own. He spoke a little more softly this time. "It's not you who is hopeless. It's us. It's _this_. Look at us. I can't make this work by sheer power of will."

"But I need you to."

"I can't," he whispered, as an apology, taking a step away.

"You're so strong, Booth. I need that right now. I need you." She took his soaking wet face in her freezing cold hands. One last attempt. "Please."

Booth slowly took her hands from his face and held them again. He looked her in the eyes. "I can't," he said. The resolution in his voice ended any hope she had of convincing him otherwise.

Brennan's tears were falling again as her shakily reconstructed world began to crumble once more. She was being so weak. But there were some emotional scars she simply could not get past. And she needed him. He was everything she wasn't. He was her only hope. Her only way out of her self-constructed Hell.

Booth kept his face in check. He had to be strong, not for her, but against her. He had to resist the urge to save her from everything. As he held onto her hands he had to resist the urge to pull her to him and rescue her from herself.

"I don't want to be alone anymore. And you damn me to a life of loneliness if you leave, Booth." The tears in her voice made sounding angry and accusing very difficult. "There is no one else as strong as you. As determined as you. As loving as you."

Booth leaned his forehead against hers. "Please don't say that, Bones," he whispered, tortured.

Furious again, she pulled away. "_Don't call me that!!_ It doesn't mean anything!"

But Booth wordlessly pulled her into his chest again. The rain relentlessly pouring down on them, Booth wrapped one arm around her waist and with the other held her head against his chest. He leaned his head down and whispered in her ear.

"Don't make me your only hope, Temperance. I know you can do this. You don't need me. Where's the fiercely independent Dr. Brennan we all know? C'mon, Bones."

"Don't," she sobbed miserably into his chest.

And then she was out of his arms, alone in the rain, alone in the dark parking lot. Booth's retreating figure didn't stop, nor did he turn. Within seconds, he was gone completely.

"_I don't want to let you go, but if I have to, I will."_


	10. X

Booth was not the least bit surprised by how hard it was to walk away from her. This completely vulnerable, practically begging woman was a side of Brennan he had never seen before. He didn't know her, but she was still her, and he was still him. No matter how she acted, no matter what she said, she was still the woman he loved. The fact that somehow the rain had washed away the last of her walls didn't change how much he loved her.

He hated what he had to say, what he had to do.

Maybe someday she would forgive him for not fighting for her like she asked, like she said she needed.

But that was the whole point. She didn't need him.

Faced with the beaten down, let down, bruised up and shut up Temperance Brennan that she concealed so well, Booth had been left with a decision. One he had had to make in a split second. He could either carry her through the battle, let her stay weak and have her resent him for that for the rest of their lives…or he could, in that moment, show her the greatest act of unkindness and let her fight alone.

Walking away was not the easier choice. And he wasn't even sure if it was the right choice. Not three minutes ago he had told himself that the least he could do was be there for her. The least he could do was hold her through the tough times. And now, when the toughest moment had come, he was gone.

Betraying her to save her.

Betraying her, because he was the one who had started this whole mess. He was the one who decided that now was a good time to bring up all this crap they'd been ignoring for years. He was the one who couldn't wait any longer.

And he had seen his mistake in not waiting too late.

Booth made his way slowly up the stairs. He closed the door to his apartment behind him with an aching hope that she would find the strength to follow him, knowing it would be disastrous if she did. Wanting nothing but to turn back around. Longing to carry her through the battle of self. Wishing he didn't care that he'd hurt her by helping her. Hoping he was, indeed, helping her.

The rain pouring down outside sounded oddly muted as he sat on the edge of his couch and rubbed his face with his hands. He was soaked.

But with a sudden jolt back to reality, seeing through the clouds of his complete inner turmoil, Booth realized that he had taken his keys back and her car was still at the Jeffersonian. He had left her in the dark, rainy parking lot with no way to get home.

Shit.

Knowing he was half-going against his resolve to let her go, Booth ran as quickly as he could back down the stairs. Just because he was abandoning her emotionally didn't mean he had to completely abandon her as a human being. He cursed himself for being such an idiot.

Booth didn't exactly know what he had expected to find. Perhaps her sitting under the awning, soaking wet and freezing. Perhaps her still standing there in the rain, soaking wet and freezing. But what he found was what he hadn't expected. She was gone.

He tried to think how long ago he had left her. It couldn't have been more than two minutes. Still unsure of what he was looking for or what he might find, Booth walked back out into the rain, looking between the cars and around the side of the building. She was gone.

XXXXX

She didn't blame him for leaving her in the rain without a car. But it wasn't hard to catch a cab and it was better to just avoid him completely. Within twenty minutes she was back in her empty apartment where she belonged.

Though she had already begun to do so in the cab, complete solitude was the easiest and fastest way to rebuild walls. She had a lot of experience.

Still soaked through, Brennan peeled off her wet clothes as she walked in the door of her apartment. Knowing his nature better than anyone, Brennan walked straight to her phone and dialed Booth's number. She had ignored her cell the whole cab ride home.

"Booth," he answered after the first ring.

"I'm home and I'm fine," she said shortly.

She heard him breathe a sigh of relief that seemed to come from deep within. "Good. I'm so sorry. I'm an idiot."

Unsure of what to say, she said nothing.

The silence was awkward.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow?" he asked hopefully. How could he ask her that, like everything was just fine?

She may have laughed if it weren't such a painful question. "I don't think so."

The silence was sad.

"Goodbye, Booth."


	11. XI

Day 3

The walls had been easier to rebuild than she had expected. She felt as if they were even stronger now, without chips taken out of them and some sections missing completely. It was actually quite comfortable back in her shell. Where she belonged.

_Where Booth banished you_, a very quiet part at the back of her mind whispered weakly. But it was easy to ignore.

So breaking the news to Sweets had been easy, despite the childlike look of despair he tried to conceal. Normally she wouldn't have noticed. But she had learned a lot in the last two days.

And though she ignored the quiet voice, she could still hear it. _You're hurting him, too. You're hurting everyone. _

But as she walked out of Sweets' office it was easy to stay detached. It didn't matter. They had made their decisions. It was done.

The harder part was cracking herself back open for Sweets and his ignorant questions, butting his head into a place that was absolutely none of his business. She could have just ignored him completely. That may have been easier.

Instead she told him the truth.

Because he was accusing her of exactly what had been expected of her. And she hadn't done the expected. She had begged Booth to stay. She had done what everyone had always wanted her to do. She had been weak.

That _is_ what everyone had always wanted her to do…right?

Not that she had done it for other people. She had done it for Booth. Or, for herself, in regard to Booth. Or something.

Unable to think about it any longer, she took a deep breath, clearing her lungs and her mind, and got back to work. Back to what everyone expected.

XXXXX

She didn't notice him until Cam gave her the eye telling her to look over her shoulder. He was standing there, his hands empty and floundering for something to do, to hold onto. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes focused downward.

Brennan wished she could be angry with him. For being in her lab. For taking her away from her work. For being distracting. But instead she took off her gloves and stepped gingerly down the platform steps. She approached him slower than usual, softer than usual. Almost like she pitied him.

"Hey Booth," she said softly with a light smile on her face.

He looked up at her as if she were granting some kind of pardon. He looked so…relieved.

"Hey," he sighed, almost happily.

She put a hand on his shoulder, turning him ever so slightly. "Would you like to go into my office?" It was so odd to ask. To be so formal about it. But he nodded.

XXXXX

Angela was the first to speak.

"What. The. Hell."

It seemed like it all should have been funny. But it wasn't. It really, really wasn't.

Cam sighed, shook her head, and leaned over the body again. She called Hodgins over, but had to say his name twice before he heard her. When he did come, his mind was not on the work at hand.

"What was that all about? Did you see the way Doctor B was so polite? That never happens."

Angela continued. "Did you see how sad Booth looked?" she asked. "I've never seen him look so guilty."

Cam sighed her irritated boss sigh. "There's a murder victim, if anyone cares…"

"What do you think it's about?" Hodgins went on.

"Well he told her he loved her," Angela offered.

"What?" Hodgins asked, shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Um…because it's none of your business?" Angela answered with raised eyebrows.

"But it _is_ your business, I'm assuming?"

Angela scoffed. "Duh."

"What happened?"

"Well he didn't tell me much, but from what I was able to pry from him, it didn't go well."

"Well that's no surprise," Hodgins said with wide eyes. "It's typical Doctor B."

"Okay. Everyone not talking about work, off my platform," Cam interrupted.

Angela and Hodgins both looked her way, remembering where they were. Both looked only slightly guilty. The lines between work and personal lives had been blurred so much in the years they'd all worked together they hardly seemed to matter anymore.

Cam pointed at the body with an expectant raise of her eyebrows and the other two got back to work. Every so often, they each stole glances at Brennan's closed office door. Even Cam. Especially Cam.

XXXXX

There was no awkward silence once the office door was closed. Booth had come to speak his piece.

"Do you remember when we used to have fun?" he asked her, cutting himself off before he used her nickname.

Brennan, leaning against her desk, her arms folded and yet seemingly at ease, nodded.

"When did our lives become this soap opera? So dramatic, so angsty…" he trailed off.

"Two days ago?" Brennan offered up as a literal answer to his question.

"Was it my fault?" he asked, sitting himself heavily down on her couch.

Brennan slowly walked his way and sat down next to him. "Which part?"

"This whole thing. Two days ago we were in here laughing about nothing at all. And then I took you home with me."

"You do that all the time."

"Then I kissed you."

He had her there. He definitely didn't do that all the time.

"I started it," she said.

"What? No way," he said with a shake of his head. "No…what? …Wait, how?"

She smiled at his confusion. "Do you really think that if I didn't want you to kiss me, you'd be able to?"

"No. I guess not." Booth thought for a moment. "But you didn't kiss me back."

"I was thinking."

"Well could you _not,_ next time?"

"Next time?" she asked, almost amused.

Booth looked away for a moment, trying to figure out if there would, indeed, be a next time. He sighed. "I liked it better when we had fun together. When I loved you and the whole world knew it but it didn't matter. Because we had this _thing_. And it worked."

Brennan nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "I did too."

"And now that thing is broken."

She nodded again.

He turned his head and waited until she looked at him. "I am so sorry, Bones," he said with overwhelming sincerity.

But this time, instead of arguing how much he was to blame, she gave him what he needed. What only she could give. "I forgive you," she said with an honest smile.

Again, he looked at her as if she were granting some kind of pardon.

"For trying to change our relationship in the first place," she continued, the smile falling. A little bit of the softness was gone from her eyes now. "I don't, however, forgive you for whatever it was that happened next. Because I don't understand it. I don't understand why, when I did what you wanted, you completely turned your back on me."

Booth looked down.

"Remember that whole part of the story?" she asked, the softness completely gone, replaced by something bordering on frustration and confusion.

He had an answer for that. Somewhere. But he couldn't bring it to her, couldn't find it. Because all he saw was that he had hurt her. He had known that before, known that he had to, but seeing it…seeing it sucked. More than sucked. Made him feel like he was rotting from the inside out.


	12. XII

_Internet malfunctioned. Sorry for the delay! Please enjoy. -JF_

"Back so soon, Sweets?" Angela called from the platform as the psychologist walked through the glass doors to the lab for the second time that day.

"Is Doctor Brennan here?" he asked from the bottom of the platform steps.

Cam turned to face him with a scalpel in her hand and something gross on her plastic apron. Sweets didn't even try to imagine what it was. "It's not a good time," she said.

"It won't take long. There was just something I forgot to tell Doctor Brennan," he said casually.

But Cam gave him a very pointed look. "Now is not a good time."

"Where is Doctor Brennan?" Sweets continued. Finally, Angela made her way down the steps and put a hand on Sweets' shoulder, turning him to face Doctor Brennan's closed office door.

"I'll give you three guesses as to who is in there with her," Angela said flatly.

"Booth?" Sweets guessed.

Angela patted his shoulder like a kindergarten teacher. "Very good."

"Actually, this is perfect. That's what I wanted to set up. A meeting with the two of them together…" Sweets took a step forward but was stopped by Angela's hand to his shoulder again.

"This, I'm afraid, has nothing to do with your job," she said.

"Agent Booth and Doctor Brennan are my patients. Of course it's my job."

Angela shook her head. "As partners, at work, they're your patients. Sweets, trust me on this one. It's not your business."

"But I have to—" Sweets began, but Angela cut him off.

"No you don't. You don't have to save them. Let them flounder without your guidance. They need to. They need to figure this out without being watched the whole time, Sweets. Just give them space and time."

Sweets gave up and it was obvious. His shoulders slumped slightly. Angela patted his shoulder again. "Good boy." And as she walked back onto the platform, she continued, "Believe me, it's no harder for you to leave them alone than it is for me." She flashed him a smile. "And I'm not even getting paid for it."

Sweets opened his mouth to argue that he wasn't doing it for the money, but was interrupted. Again.

"I know, Sweets," she said knowingly. "I know."

XXXXX

They sat side-by-side on her couch, as they had so many times in the past. They each sighed with exhaustion in turn, occasionally stealing a glance at the other.

"I hate this," Brennan confided.

Booth nodded. He knew what she meant. Not getting along, things being awkward between them, feeling like something was missing, not knowing what to say, how to act. He knew exactly what she meant. "Yup," he said, half of his voice refusing to function.

And the silence continued.

XXXXX

Cam, though she had been intent on staying focused on the work at hand, had to ask. She sort of needed her anthropologist. "Angela, how long have they been in there?"

Angela looked down at her watch. "Thirty-two minutes," she said with something between joy and extreme impatience on her face.

"And…?" Cam continued, hoping Angela had been the least bit curious.

"Nothing. I've walked by a million times and haven't heard a single thing," she sighed, almost disbelieving. "Like they're just sitting in there, doing nothing, not even talking."

"Or maybe they _are_ doing something…and not talking," Hodgins cut in suggestively, completely unwelcome in the conversation.

But Angela managed to laugh a little. "No, believe me, I have good ears for that sort of thing. And I've been eavesdropping on them for years, so trust me here. They're not _doing_ anything."

Cam, her face showing the smallest hints of worry, turned her back on the conversation without another word.

XXXXX

A tentative knock came and Brennan's office door, interrupting their mutual silent reverie. Brennan stood and unlocked the door to let Cam in, but Booth continued to stare at the wall on the opposite side of the room.

"Sorry to interrupt, Doctor Brennan, but I really need you to look at a few scrapes I found on the vertebrae. I would have waited, but—"

"It's alright, Cam," Brennan said with a good-natured wave of her hand. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Okay," Cam said, throwing at glance at Booth and smiling. But the look on his face scared her. She had seen that look before.

Brennan shut the door behind Cam and looked at Booth. "I have to go."

Booth nodded. "Me too," he lied, looking at his cell phone. He stood up, checking his pockets and looking around him. Like he had lost something.

"Lose something?" Brennan asked.

Booth looked up at her and smiled in spite of himself. "No. Not really, no."


	13. XIII

After a long day filled with nothing but avoiding her feelings, Brennan wanted nothing more than to go home and avoid her feelings.

Though it seemed illogical, the time of day she had felt the most at ease was the half an hour or so that he had spent with Booth in her office. It hadn't been tense and she hadn't wasted her energy trying not to think about him.

In its own awkward way, sitting with him in silence had been extremely therapeutic.

Still, she was angry at him. Confused at him. With him. About him.

But he hadn't been talking, hadn't been rationalizing, hadn't been explaining or making excuses. And neither had she. And it seemed like it was a milestone for the two of them, in its own awkward way.

Brennan's cell phone rang as she sat herself down on her couch and she took her time answering it. It could only be one person.

"Hi Angela," she said as a greeting, though it was more like a sigh of exasperation.

But a man's voice laughed lightly from the other end of the line. "Not Angela," he said warmly.

Brennan recognized the voice immediately, and her chest hurt and her heart skipped a few beats. Her ears rang and the tears sprang unexpectedly into her eyes. Whether it was out of joy or fear, she couldn't tell.

"Sully?" she answered breathlessly.

"Hi Tempe," he greeted, the smile evident in his tone. "How are you?"

Brennan tried to laugh. It didn't really work. "I'm okay," she answered unconvincingly.

Sully laughed at her. "That good, huh?" he said sarcastically. "Is this a bad time?"

Yes. No. Yes.

"It's actually kind of the perfect time, Sully. Are you finally back?"

"I am," he answered.

"Well how was it? What took you so long?" she asked light-heartedly

"Hey how about I take you out to dinner and tell you all about it?" Sully offered.

"Absolutely," Brennan answered without a second thought. "Tonight?" she asked hopefully.

"You still live the same place?"

"I do."

"Then how about I pick you up at eight?"

"Sounds perfect."

XXXXX

Cam didn't even bother knocking when she arrived at Booth's apartment. She found him exactly where she had expected to, sitting on the couch and staring unfocused at a hockey game.

His eyes flicked uninterestedly over to her for half a second before returning to the game. His jaw was set and his eyes were cold. He may as well have had his arms crossed and a defiant pout on his lips. But instead his hands rested on his widespread legs and his face was deadpan besides his clenched jaw.

Cam walked around his coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning off the TV and focusing her attention back onto Booth in one swift motion. The set of her jaw rivaled Booth's own.

"What the hell, Seeley?" she asked.

Booth glanced up at her again. "What," he asked roughly.

"Don't 'what' me, Seeley, you know what."

"I don't."

"Cut the crap, Booth. I know you. I know this mood, I know that face. What the hell."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Camille."

Cam folded her arms across her chest and sat down next to him. "It's the failure face."

"I have a failure face?" he asked, barely interested in anything she had to say at the moment. "I didn't know I had one of those."

"It doesn't happen very often," Cam answered with a good-natured smile. "Which is why it worries me."

"Don't worry about me," Booth said, trying to force a smile for Cam's benefit. It looked painful. "I'm fine."

Cam gave her something like her disappointed boss look, but softer somehow. She reached out and touched his cheek. He didn't flinch away, though she had half expected him to. His eyes actually fluttered closed, like it felt nice.

Seventeen years they had been friends. Seventeen years, plenty of which had been spent as more than friends. It was odd to think that there are just some types of people who you end up attached to for life, even if you aren't in love with them. But a little part of you always will be.

Booth looked at the woman in front of him, and leaned into her hand. He was silent for a long moment. Then, "I feel like I've lost her, Camille."

"You've only lost her once you give up completely," she tried to encourage him. "The world isn't over, Seeley."

"Sure feels like it," he sighed, leaning back into the couch and away from her. His brow furrowed and his voice became coarse. "I wish Parker were here."

"Why?" Cam asked, knowing the answer.

"Because he loves me. And I love him. And it isn't complicated."

Cam nodded. She felt the need to say something, but all that came to mind seemed out of line. So she kept her mouth shut.

Booth continued. "And, you know, he's just…he's great. He's a great kid. I love that kid."

"Why don't you call Rebecca up?" Cam suggested.

Booth shook his head. "Come on, Camille. You know how she is."

"I just don't see why. You're a wonderful father and you love your son and want to spend time with him. That's more than a lot of women ever get for their children."

"Yeah. I'm wonderful," Booth sighed self-deprecatingly.

"Oh come _on_, Seeley. Would you stop it with the pity-party? You are a great guy, whether you like it or not. Whether Rebecca sees that or not. Whether Doctor Brennan sees that or not."

"No," he cut her off, angry. "Don't even_ think_ those two names in the same context. Bones is nothing like Rebecca."

"Well they both seem to be women you love who don't see what's right in front of them. Both of them gave you the failure face," Cam reasoned.

"No, Camille."

"What?"

"I don't love Rebecca."

"You used to."

"Yeah. And there's a _difference_. I used to love you, too."

"Well at least I could see what was right in front of me."

Booth shook his head, as if remembering something painful. "Bones did too," he admitted quietly.

"What?"

"She came back, Cam," Booth said heavily. "She came back and let those walls down and I realized what I had done too late."

"Damn it, Booth," Cam swore, nearly a whisper. "I _told_ you."

"Told me what?"

"I told you to be sure of your feelings before you said anything to her." Oddly, it seemed like she was angry with him.

"I was, Camille."

"Then what the hell happened?" she asked.

Booth was on the defensive. "It wasn't the right time, alright? It was all wrong, and she was there, in front of me, but she wasn't _Bones_, you know? She was this pleading woman I didn't know and she was asking me to carry her through this relationship, as if I had this endless pit I could dig strength out of, day in and day out. She wanted me to love her without being loved back and I just couldn't do it, alright, Camille? It wasn't right."

"If you really loved her you would accept that pleading woman you didn't know," Cam nearly chastised him. "So either you don't really love her, Seeley, or there's something you're not telling me. Why did you give up on her?"

"I would never, _ever_ give up on Bones," Booth growled.

"Really? Because that's what it looks like to me. So what is it, Booth? What made you decide you don't love her anymore?" Cam asked attackingly.

"I still love her, Camille!" he nearly roared in defense.

Instead of cringing away from his anger, Cam smiled. "Good," she said, content with her work. She said nothing more, letting him soak in the realization of saying it out loud.

Booth, taking a deep breath to somewhat calm the irrational anger that had wanted to tear Cam to pieces, leaned back into the couch again. "It_ is_ the failure face," he admitted.

"Why?" Cam asked.

"Because my tactics were bad."

She half-laughed at him. "It's a relationship, Booth, not a war."

"Now who was it that said love was a battlefield…?" Booth mused.

"Pat Benatar?" Cam answered, slightly amused.

"Well, she was right. And I had bad tactics. Went in without a clear view." Booth's voice became slightly husky. "I messed up. And there were casualties."

* * *

_And that officially exhausts my supply of already-written chapters. Updates might be every other day instead of daily. Oh, and in answer to the questions I know I'll get: Because Sully is an amazing character whose presence on the show was far too short-lived. And because Heather told me to. :) Until next time. -JF_


	14. XIV

Brennan knew she was staring, but couldn't help it. It was really him. He was really back. His hair was a little shorter and he was noticeably tanner…but other than that and more toned upper body musculature…he was very much the same.

Sully caught her stare as he looked up from his plate. He smiled when she didn't look away. "Hi," he said, though they'd been having a conversation not a minute before.

"Sorry," she said, finally looking down. "It's just really…odd that you're back."

"I know, tell me about it," he sighed, that smile still genuinely tacked onto his face. "What have I missed?"

I'm in love with Booth.

"We caught the Gravedigger," she offered up instead.

"_That_ is a _very_ good thing," he said, punctuating his words with his fork. "Did he—"

"—she—"

"_She_," Sully amended with a very impressed look, "get anyone else?"

Brennan nodded. "She got Booth."

"Someone got the drop on Booth?" Sully clearly found that amusing, though Brennan found it unsettling. But she smiled anyway.

"And put him on a ship wired to explode."

Sully let out a low whistle. "I'm assuming you saved him."

Brennan smiled, almost with pride. "Yes."

"So how is Booth these days? You haven't mentioned him until now. You're still working together, right?"

"Of course," Brennan answered as casually as she could manage. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Sully shrugged. "I don't know. I've been gone for three years, Tempe. Things change."

Brennan let out a short laugh. "That's true."

Sully cocked his head, interested. "How so?"

Taking a sip of wine to stall and calm the growing knot in the pit of her stomach, Brennan found a non-lie to tell him. "Well, for starters, Zack is in prison."

Sully's eyebrows shot up. "What? You're kidding."

"I…don't do that," Brennan said slowly, unsure whether or not that was the best topic to bring up. "Oh, and I got my father off murder charges by presenting myself as a viable suspect."

"For murdering Deputy Director Kirby?" Sully laughed humorlessly. "You, young lady, have a lot of explaining to do."

Brennan sighed. At least she could avoid talking about the more recent developments this way. "Three years is a lot to explain."

Sully went back to his food. "Well, I've got time." With that, they both continued eating in comfortable silence. Then Sully added under his breath, "And I thought_ I_ was crazy…"

XXXXX

At Booth's request, Cam hadn't left. The hockey game had been turned on again and both stared, unseeing, at the television screen. Out of the corner of her eye, Cam saw Booth unconsciously fiddling with his cell phone in indecision.

"Just call her," she finally said, the fidgeting becoming suddenly annoying.

"Who?" Booth asked innocently, knowing he'd been caught.

"Brennan. I can tell you want to. You've been thinking about it for the last half hour. Just do it, Seeley," Cam sighed, exasperated.

But Booth smiled. Actually smiled, and gave her a sly side glance. "That's not who I was thinking about calling. I want to call Rebecca."

"To see if you can get Parker for the weekend?" Cam guessed.

"No, to reconnect with her," Booth answered.

Cam couldn't keep back the shocked expression. Well, they did share a child…she guessed, in a way, it sort of made sense. Sort of.

But Booth shook his head, his expression deadpan again. "I'm kidding."

"Ah," was all Cam could say.

"I'm gonna do it," Booth said decisively, getting off the couch and opening his phone. He needed to do it.

XXXXX

Rebecca had been in a giving mood and Parker had been missing his father anyway. Within the hour, Parker had been dropped off at Booth's apartment. At Booth's request, Cam still hadn't left.

"Hi, Doctor Saroyan," Parker had greeted with a smile.

"Just 'Cam' is fine, Parker. I'm not at work," Cam had replied.

It was too cold outside to play football, so the board games had been pulled out and dusted off. Sitting in a triangle on the living room floor, the evening went on in delightful sweetness.

At one point Booth had gotten up to get drinks for everyone. And as he stood in the doorway to the living room, he saw it. The simplicity of it. And it was beautiful.

Though the woman he loved had clouded his thoughts and stayed at the forefront of every thought he had, he couldn't help but smile at his son and his friend and wish that everything could always be so simple. So blatantly right.

At the end of the night, with Parker tucked into bed, Cam still didn't leave, at Booth's request.


	15. XV

_It's rated "T" so I'm allowed to drop _one_, right? Enjoy! -JF_

Cam had offered so many times in the course of the evening to leave him alone with his son, but Booth had kept insisting that she should stay. Cam knew that it should have felt like she was intruding on some incredibly private part of his life, but the truth was that this was nothing new to her. There was a time when she and Booth had shared everything. And because of that, it was easy to do it again. Almost too easy.

But having stood in the doorway as Booth lovingly tucked his son in too bed reminded her of her own charge, her own daughter, though tucking her in wasn't something she'd done in the recent past.

"Booth," Cam began, pulling out her phone. "I'll stay here as long as you want me to, but I need to let Michelle know where I am."

Booth let out a half-laugh. "With a sixteen year old? Are you kidding me? It's better that you leave her wondering. If you tell her you're not coming back for the night, who knows what will happen."

"I'm not coming back for the night?" Cam asked softly, looking Booth straight in the eyes.

"Not unless you want to," Booth replied, almost as if he thought it was a burden for her to be around him. Like he was giving her an out.

"You're right," Cam said decisively, putting her phone back on the coffee table. "Better to leave her wondering and expecting me home any second." She looked at Booth for a long moment. "You're good at this."

"Hey, I was sixteen once. And I'm a cop, so double points for me."

"I meant at being a father."

"Yeah, well, I'd be better if I got to do it more often."

"You're the closest thing Michelle has to a father, Booth. That's gotta count for something," Cam said.

Booth shrugged. "Sure I'll intimidate a boyfriend when need be but you're the one doing all the work, Cam. I love Michelle, don't get me wrong, but I'm not her father. I'm more the uncle type."

"Number One," Cam said with a smile, quoting what Michelle called Booth whenever she got the chance. After a moment of silence she continued. "I just meant that Parker's a lucky kid, and still will be when he's sixteen and all his friends think they hate their parents. He's still going to love you like the loyal kid he is now."

Booth raised his freshly opened bottle of beer. "Hope's hoping."

They had settled into the couch, facing one another. Booth looked at Cam for a long, thoughtful moment.

"What?" Cam asked with a half-nervous smile.

Booth shook his head as if to say 'nevermind' and took another swig of beer. At least he finally looked away. Cam took the opportunity to study his face for the first time since she had seen the failure face as he had sat in Doctor Brennan's office.

He wasn't relaxed by any means, and it was obvious. Though it had been barely noticeable, the furrow in his brow had stayed there the entire evening, as if every single second of it had been troubled with thoughts of the woman he thought he'd failed. His lips were tight as if he very desperately wanted to say something but wouldn't allow himself to. His eyes were slightly unfocused, like everything he looked at reminded him of her. Like every time he looked at Cam he saw Brennan's face instead.

After a while, Booth spoke. "I loved you, Cam."

"And I you," Cam easily replied. As long as they were speaking in the past tense, it felt relatively safe. Except for the fact that they were basically alone in his apartment.

"No, really. I could have spent a lifetime with you, Camille," he said seriously, finally looking at her.

Cam nodded thoughtfully. "Then life got in the way of a lifetime."

"No," Booth laughed humorlessly. "_Rebecca_ got in the way of a lifetime."

Cam had to laugh at that. They bashed on that poor woman far too much. But it was oh so easy. But now was not the time. "And then?" Cam asked.

"What?" Booth asked, confused.

"Well we did date again after that, if you remember."

Booth drew a breath through his teeth, making a sort of hissing noise. "Yeah. Then…then Bones got in the way."

"In the way?" Cam asked. "I thought Rebecca and Doctor Brennan were nothing alike. You said so yourself."

"It's different, sure. But as far as you and I go," Booth said, pointing to each of them in turn as he leaned forward. "It's the same basic idea. They both got in the way of a lifetime spent with you and Parker and Michelle were everything would be so much more simple."

Cam smiled a guarded smile. "In a world without Rebecca or Brennan, Parker wouldn't exist and there's a high probability I wouldn't be Michelle's guardian."

Booth leaned back dejectedly. "Now you just sound like Bones."

"Just saying," Cam said with a shrug.

But Booth didn't drop it, despite Cam's valiant effort. "But even then, we'd be together, probably. And we'd be happy." His eyes sort of glinted as he seemed to be truly considering this alternate reality he'd fabricated. When he looked at Cam again, it was a look she hadn't seen aimed her direction in a long while.

She saw it coming, thank god. And stopped him before he did something he would most certainly regret for years to come.

Her fingers to his lips, two inches from her face, she stopped him cold. "If Temperance Brennan weren't a part of your life, there's a possibility we could be happy together." She pushed him gently way, fingers still to his lips. "But the fact is that she_ is_ a part of your life. And you're in love with her. And burying your feeling of loss and failure and your regret for what you've done in the past few days in an old flame like me is a stupid-ass decision, Booth." She stood up stiffly, angrily. "You're a better man than that."

He may have repeated his request that she stayed, but as she let herself out, she wasn't listening. Not anymore.

XXXXX

Booth was one of the few boyfriends Cam had ever had who had actually lasted, and was certainly the only one she was still friends with. He was the best friend she had and she had been prepared to be there for him when he needed her, but the Booth that had tried to kiss her was not the man she had come to consider her friend and had intended to help.

One of the most admirable things about Booth had always been his unbelievably clear sense of right and wrong, even if that included a few gray areas as necessary. He always knew where he stood and what to do if he wasn't exactly sure. Of course he had made mistakes in the past, as everyone does at some point.

But the one mistake she had to stop him from making was something she had never thought Booth capable of.

It was clear that Booth regretted things he had said to Brennan and that his over-exaggerated sense of despair and loss were causing him to not think clearly, but it was so blatantly unlike him. If Cam hadn't been so worried about him, she may have been hurt and felt used. But as she left his apartment boiling with anger, it truly had nothing to do with her. She was removing herself as a temptation, as a distorted sense of comfort. She could not let herself be an enabler in Booth's new-found self-destructive traits.

Nodding her head in resolve, worried sick that Booth was not himself, Cam dialed Brennan's number as she got into her car, hoping that even if Booth and Brennan talking to each other didn't solve any problems between the two of them, it would at least focus Booth's universe back to its center on her where it belonged.

The phone rang four times before a man's light yet husky voice answered. "Doctor Brennan's phone."

Cam heard her forensic anthropologist's playful protests and laughter in the background. Cam's heart skipping a beat, she hung up immediately.

Un. _Fucking_. Believable.


	16. XVI

_I think there's a lot to be said for this baby chapter. Enjoy -JF_

Cam tried to convince herself that it wasn't her business. And even if it were, there was a chance it wasn't what it sounded like. She sat there in her car for upwards of ten minutes, clutching her phone in her hand and the steering wheel with the other.

What Brennan did with her time and the men in her life wasn't Cam's business, and never was, unless Booth was involved. She had only ever intervened once, when Brennan dated Jared, and it was only after much self-deliberation. She only spoke up when she was absolutely certain of the situation and the repercussions that awaited.

What could she say, she was a scientist through-and-through.

So although her lonely yet caring heart was telling her to go back inside and give Booth the comfort he deserved, although an angry part of her wanted to barge in on Brennan and whoever she was with, although a selfish part of her tempted her to tell Booth and ruin that relationship forever, although she was torn a thousand different ways by what she could do and what she wanted and what she thought was right, Cam drove away.

Hundreds of days later, she would be proud of herself for that decision. She would stand at the long white table, raise her glass, and not have a single regret. Somehow, Cam always managed to do the right thing by other people.

But now, with hundreds of days to go, she fought back tears on their behalf. Her heart wrenched for him.

Why did she have to care so much? It wasn't her job to save them.

Eventually she would realize that in a way she did save them. If she had gone back inside, chances are there wouldn't be champagne at all.


	17. XVII

Former Special Agent Tim Sullivan was not blind, nor was he an idiot.

He heard how she avoided his questions about Booth and he saw how uncomfortable she was when something reminded her of him.

Not wanting to push her, he waited for her to say something. Knowing Tempe, though, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to him that she managed to avoid the subject completely, and skillfully to boot. Sully had hoped that maybe the last three years had done her some good on that front, but apparently, she was very much so still the same.

Except not at all.

He had only dated Tempe for a few months, but in that short amount of time he'd learned to read her very well. And something was different. Her expression seemed terminally torn, even when she was smiling and laughing and noticeably relaxing. Sully, an admittedly intelligent man, knew there could be many reasons. But only one that made so much sense.

See, he had left before it truly ended between the two of them. He left while still in love with her and looked back to see Booth standing on the docks with her, his arm holding her close.

Sully had always told himself that he admired Booth for being there for her when he left her for the Caribbean. He was thankful to know that at least she was being taken care of, despite how much she hated that whole concept. He kept telling himself that it was a good thing.

But Sully was only human. And when he thought about it, which was often, the jealousy was a little overwhelming. Part of him knew that Booth would pull her in eventually. That she'd give in eventually. That they'd realize they'd been in love the whole time, eventually. And then that other part of him hoped he'd come back before then. Because, well, he was only human.

And Tempe was truly an amazing woman.

Unwilling to be tied down, Sully had left her. He had made his plan and her resistance to join him didn't deter him from his path. He had plowed ahead, strong as ever. And then, after his adventures, he returned to check on the princess he'd left in the safe keeping of another prince.

And the prince was nowhere in sight.

His absence from her words spoke volumes.

XXXXX

To pass the time, and in hopes of helping her forget the problems that troubled her, Sully had three years' worth of hilarious stories and jobs and skills that he had acquired. He lived wide. Which she didn't. Besides the whole nearly getting herself accused of murder thing.

The most recent skill Sully had learned was foot reflexology. So, of course, to prove it to her (though he was sure she had studied it at some point), her bare feet were in his lap as they both relaxed on her couch. He was giving her a skilled foot massage and explaining it to her at the same time.

Brennan sat, her arm propped against the couch and holding up her head as she watched him and her feet and listened to him talk about how he learned it and how it worked.

But honestly, she didn't hear a word of what he was saying.

It felt nice to get a foot massage, though, and she felt more relaxed than she would have thought, given the past few days. She wasn't listening to him, but as she watched him, she felt all the tension leaving her body.

So either foot massage therapy was a miracle worker, or Sully himself was exactly the kind of therapy she needed at the moment. Perhaps it was both. She looked at him for a long while. His tanned face, cropped hair, and defined shoulder and neck muscles. He really was very handsome.

Sully, noticing her staring at his face again, stopped mid-explanation. "What?" he asked with another smile. This seemed to be a recurring theme.

"Keep going," she urged him, prodding his shoulder with her foot. "It feels nice."

As she smiled at him and Sully continued his work, he sighed. He was definitely holding out hope for the little guy, the underdog. He was, after all, only human.

After a long and comfortable silence, Sully looked over and saw that Brennan had closed her eyes. He smiled again in admiration. "Tempe," he called softly. She stirred, but only slightly. "Can you hear me?" he asked, and she nodded microscopically. "I think I still love you, Tempe," he said, mustering his courage.

She opened her eyes very slowly. "What?" she asked quietly.

"I was never shy about loving you before and I'm not going to start now," he said as she drew her feet away a sat up. She looked like she very desperately wanted to say something, but wouldn't let herself.

"_I'm in love with Booth,"_ he imagined the words coming out of her mouth and ringing around the room, but they never came.

Instead, she slowly leaned forward, into him. Sully remained completely still as she kissed him softly on the lips. That was certainly different from what he'd imagined, but it was exactly what he so desperately wanted. She kissed him again, and this time he kissed her back.

XXXXX

Former Special Agent Tim Sullivan was not blind, nor was he an idiot.

Maybe if he had known the whole story, he would have done right by them. But she wouldn't talk about Booth. She didn't tell him the story, so how was he supposed to know? He only knew what he saw, heard, and what he could guess.

What he did know, though, was that she was smiling. Laughing. Relaxing. Almost as if she were happy. And although Sully knew there was something he was missing, those few signs were enough for him.

For Sully, this was something he had thought about a lot in the last three years or so. Of course he knew he didn't deserve her love or trust anymore, and he had expected her to move on without him, but he had always hoped. So to be here, to be kissing her and smelling her and feeling her…it was something along the lines of surreal.

He laid her gently back as he kissed her with a little more fervor. She laughed lightly at the initiative he took, but kissed him back just the same. His hands made their way up the back of her shirt and his light touch made her laugh…again.

Though it was kind of a big moment for Sully, he didn't mind her laughter, though it was a bit disconcerting as he had always known her to be a little more serious.

Brennan's phone suddenly started vibrating on the coffee table, making an extremely loud and un-ignorable buzzing sound. Holding Brennan pinned down on the couch with his body weight, and making her laugh again in the process, he reached over for her phone and looked at the caller ID.

"It's CAM!" he shouted in excitement. He had always liked Cam.

"Give it to me, it might be a new case," Brennan said, still half-laughing at him.

"No, I want to talk to my friend CAM!!" His boyish excitement was adorable. But in a millisecond he managed a fake deadpan work-face.

Brennan exploded in a true fit of laughter as he answered the phone.

"Doctor Brennan's phone."

But no answer came and the dial tone took the place of silence. Sully looked down at the phone, mock-offended. "She hung up on me!" he said, shocked.

And Brennan laughed again.


	18. XVIII

_Hi. I was out of town. I'm back now ^.^ Enjoy. -JF_

Later she would look back and ask herself what the hell she had been doing.

She would look into his eyes, sip champagne, and kiss him just for the fun of it.

But she would never forget how much_ shit _it took to get them to where they ended up. She would never wonder why she ever had doubts in the first place. She would never dance freely in the ignorant joy of being in love.

Sometimes there was a cost to happiness. No, not sometimes. Always.

And the price's lips met hers again, sweetly, the kiss itself mingling with the laughter they shared.

Perhaps if she'd known, she would have savored the moment, it being the last of its kind and all. But she didn't know. And didn't savor it. She laughed her way through it in an attempt to forget the guilt gnawing and tearing at her ribcage from the inside, dying to emerge. Killing her to emerge.

XXXXX

Booth was drowning in guilt. Truly it was nothing new to him, but it was very rare that it was this bad when he hadn't killed anyone.

His problems were his alone, and it had been the greatest act of selfishness to drag Cam into it. Sure, she had come to him, she had started it, but her goal had been to help and he had turned on her in his moment of need. Tried to use her. Shamelessly.

And she had called him out on it.

The worst part about it, though, was neither the shame nor the guilt. Obviously that was a huge part, as he felt the man he used to be, the man he used to be so comfortable being, slipping away from him more and more with each passing millisecond.

No, the worst part was the Bones at the back of his brain being all _understanding_.

It was certainly a worse torture than he ever could have devised for himself.


	19. XIX

Booth finally got up from the couch with a sigh that seemed to come from the ground up through six and some odd feet of guilt. Slowly, he made his way down the hallway, turning off all the lights as he went.

As he walked by Parker's room, the door cracked only enough to let a sliver of light into the room, Booth felt stuck to where he stood, unable to move past his son's room.

Very quietly, he opened the door enough to slip through. Parker always slept like a log, but he wasn't about to take any chances. Parker had fallen asleep on his stomach, one arm hanging off the side of the bed, his face turned towards his father, his cheeks smushed into the pillow by the weight of his head alone. He may have been drooling a little, but it didn't matter. He was perfect in all his curly-headed angelic glory.

Booth sat on the ground with his back against the same wall as the headboard of Parker's bed, right next to his son's sleeping face. He sat with his elbows propped on his knees, his head hung in exhaustion, in a sort of broken sadness.

But as Booth sat there with his son, listening to the sound of Parker's breathing, he very slowly began feeling whole again.

He knew he hadn't completely lost Brennan, but he did have a strange feeling about the whole thing. He had turned their world upside down on her and now everything was just…unsettled. It wasn't like she'd never speak to him again, though sometimes his guilt was so strong that it felt that way.

Parker stirred, and Booth cast a glance in his direction. He was still fast asleep. Booth, at that point, couldn't look away. He smiled to himself.

Even if the situation were as bad as he sometimes felt it was, he knew he still had something very important to hold on to. So if he had lost the woman he loved, he would still have his son.

Booth sighed again, but this time in the relief of the realization.

He would still have Parker.

Parker stirred again, this time half opening his eyes, sensing the presence of someone else next to him. Brave, he opened his eyes all the way.

"Hey Parker," Booth greeted quietly.

"I moose the air monkey, Mom. Look," Parker said sleepily, holding his arm up to Booth's face. Booth gently took the proffered arm, looking at it.

"Well look at that, Bub. Yes you did." Booth smiled at the ridiculousness of his son's new habit of sleep talking. This was the first time he'd witnessed it himself. It was hilariously cute.

Parker nodded seriously. "You look comfy," he mumbled, sliding off the bed and into Booth's lap with an ease that only love could produce.

Booth, the perfect balance of tenderness and solid muscle, wrapped his arms around his son.

He would always have Parker.


	20. XX

_(The editing I did is only noticeable if your'e not as idiotic when it comes to French as I am. Thanks, Heather. -JF)_

The ripples of trouble travel far. No one knew that better than Sweets did.

But then again, they didn't have to travel far. This circle of friendship, of co-workers, was so tightly knit that it was the first, the second, the third wave that reached them within moments of the trouble itself.

Booth and Brennan were the center.

And the center had not held.

The rest of them, because of this, were in danger.

XXXXX

Her own words were echoing in her mind as he kissed her.

"_I don't want to be alone anymore. And you damn me to a life of loneliness if you leave, Booth. There is no one else as strong as you. As determined as you. As loving as you."_

She had tried pushing those words back, she really had. It wasn't fair to Sully. He was a great guy and deserved her attention and happiness that he was finally back after three years. He deserved to be welcomed home. She _wanted_ to welcome him home.

But she finally broke.

He felt her give up, and pulled away from her.

"Talk, Tempe," he urged her.

"_I'm in love with Booth," _he expected again.

"Booth doesn't love me," she said instead.

Sully sat up abruptly at that. "What?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Booth. He doesn't love me. I thought he did. But he doesn't."

"Okay, um…that was unexpected," Sully said, running his hand through his hair.

"What were you expecting me to say?" Brennan asked, sitting up as well.

"Well, given your resistance to talk about him, I was thinking that you had finally realized that you loved him or something. I mean, I guess that's kind of what you're saying anyway, but I guess I thought Booth would always sweep you off your feet or something, you know? When I came back I never really expected anything from you, Tempe, I want you to know that, but I couldn't help but hope that you hadn't realized your feelings for Booth yet. And I have to admit, I kind of guessed you had. I've been waiting for you to say it since I picked you up for dinner, but I still love you, that part was true, what I said, because you're an amazing woman, and I think I do a fairly good job of keeping up with you and knowing the right thing to say so I couldn't help but think that, not that you had waited for me exactly, but…no, yeah, I had kind of hoped you had waited. Except not. I knew that this whole thing with Booth would come up, is I guess what I'm trying to say. But what do you mean he doesn't love you? That makes no sense to me whatsoever. That's very un-Booth-like. And there's nothing about you that isn't as easy as pie to love."

Sully finally stopped talking and sighed a little bit, giving Brennan an apologetic look for having rambled. There was a moment of silence before she spoke.

"I don't like pie."

"You know what's funny about that, though? Booth was the one who got me started liking pie."

Brennan was silent again.

"So, do you want to tell me about it? Or would that be weird?"

"No, not weird."

Sully raised his eyebrows. "So…?"

And so the story began.

_It was one of those moments that had been becoming more and more frequent—where they would be very nice to one another for no reason at all. They stood in her office, laughing quietly at something he had said as all the other lights in the lab were automatically turned off. He held out her jacket for her and she slipped into it, still laughing a little to herself. They were gathering their things, and they couldn't stop smiling._

And then the story ended.

_They sat side-by-side on her couch, as they had so many times in the past. They each sighed with exhaustion in turn, occasionally stealing a glance at the other._

"_I hate this," Brennan confided._

_Booth nodded. He knew what she meant. "Yup," he said, half of his voice refusing to function._

_And the silence continued._

"So…where do you guys stand at this point?"

Brennan shook her head, half-shrugging. "I don't know."

"Because, you know, on the planet _I'm_ from, extended silences after changes are typically a bad sign."

"It wasn't like we were avoiding talking about things we knew we should, Sully, it was just that we had nothing to say to each other."

"And that's a good thing?" Sully asked with raised eyebrows.

"Well, we weren't fighting," Brennan tried.

"I think at this point fighting would be the healthiest thing to be doing," Sully sighed.

"I don't see why," Brennan said, her eyebrows pulling together.

Sully thought for a moment, and seemed to make a decision. "You're going to see Booth tomorrow."

"Wha—it's Saturday."

"Yes. Exactly. You're going to go see him and talk to him," Sully told her.

"And I'm going to do that because…?"

"Because you need to trust me on this one."

"You do realize it's not really any of your business, right?" Brennan began, getting defensive.

"Au contraire, Tempe. It is absolutely my business." He grabbed her arm gently. "I couldn't get you to come on that boat with me. I let you pass up that opportunity, I let you make that mistake, because I was driven by selfish goals. I wanted you there so that you could be with _me_. But I'm not going to let you do it again, Tempe. It's not going to happen."

Brennan stood up. "Why does everyone assume that I'm passing up or hiding from love, from opportunities?"

"Because it's what you've always done, Tempe. Are you going to honestly tell me that's not what you are doing?"

"No, Sully, that's not what I'm doing. Were you listening to a word of what I told you? I ran first, yes, but I came back. And I was ready for him. But Booth…he turned on me. He opened me up, didn't like what he saw, and walked away. Left me bleeding."

Sully stood up as well and took her face in his hands. "Of course I was listening to you. And I heard things I don't think you've figured out yet." He brushed a bit of hair away from her face. "So please, Tempe. Trust me. Talk to him. Because it's not my job to stitch you back together. I can't save you."

Brennan, though still confused, still emotional, still slightly angry, nodded.

Internally, Sully cringed. So much for holding out hope for the underdog.

-----

_I've made a point not to ask for reviews, but it being the 20th chapter and all, how's about dropping in and letting me know what you think? Thanks. -JF_


	21. XXI

Sully insisted on sleeping on the couch. And secretly, silently, Brennan was glad. She may be rational, but she wasn't completely heartless.

Sully was a great guy. He was the perfect guy, she could see that. But he wasn't _her_ guy. Booth was her guy. Always had been. A little silence couldn't change something like that.

Brennan supposed that Sully was right. She had known that actually talking to Booth was the right thing to do, but she had let her fear get in the way of that. Fear, because talking about it and fixing things meant permanent change, which Brennan, as a general rule, didn't deal with well.

As it was now, Brennan could treat it like some kind of horrible mishap. Those kinds of things happened all the time (admittedly, not to her, but she was willing to overlook that).

She resented Sully a little for sort of forcing her to talk to Booth, but at the same time she was unbelievably relieved how understanding he had been.

After leading him on like that she didn't exactly deserve it.

It took a while for her to fall asleep as she rehearsed what she wanted to say to Booth over and over and revised it each time, trying to anticipate his answers. Before this whole ordeal she would have considered this easy, but because they had both been so inconsistent in the last few days, she had a very complicated conversation chart planned out by the time she fell asleep, a different path through the maze of things she wanted to say found depending on what he would say. Depending on what he had decided.

XXXXX

**Day 4**

Brennan woke up disappointingly unrested, though not unexpectedly so. She never slept well before she had to make big speeches to important people. At least with all her previous speeches she had always known the science of it all backwards and forwards. Plus, they never depended on anyone else's decisions and responses.

Groggily, she made her way to the kitchen while smoothing out her hair. She had by no means forgotten about Sully, and was not surprised to see him in the kitchen rooting through her fridge.

"Have you called Booth yet?" Sully called from behind the refrigerator door, having heard her approach.

Brennan sat at her dining room table. "I thought I was supposed to talk to him in person," Brennan said, surprised by how easy Sully was going to make this for her. A phone call would be much easier.

"Well, yeah, of course you're going to talk to him face to face, Tempe. Don't think you're getting out of that," he replied, pointing sternly at her with the bottle of orange juice in his hand. "But it's Saturday. So you can't just waltz into his office. You have to find out where he is," Sully explained as he turned from the fridge with an armload of booty to start making her breakfast.

When she didn't move, he took her landline off its station on the counter and set it on the table in front of her. She looked up at him, a very small part of the fear she was feeling showing in her eyes.

"Should I tell him you're here?" she asked, uncertain.

Sully thought for a moment. "If you do, I'd leave the kissing part out, at least for now. I don't want to get punched in the face," he said with a laugh.

She still looked uncertain. "So should I?"

Sully shrugged. "You know him better than I do, Tempe."

"But you're a guy."

"That has nothing to do with it," Sully told her, motioning to the phone again. "Call him."

Brennan half smiled at the odd turn of events. Sully was like the new Angela. Not that there was anything wrong with the old one, but it was odd how well he fit the role.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number she'd had memorized for years. As it rang, she took a deep breath.

Here it goes.

"Booth," came the answer. He was mid-laugh.

There was a stab of hypocritical jealousy that she couldn't help but feel. "Hi, Booth, it's me."

"Oh, hey Bones!" he greeted with surprising ease. "What's up? What do you need?"

It was like nothing had ever been wrong. "Are you busy today?" she asked, slightly nervous.

"Well I have Parker for the weekend—"

"Oh, then I don't want to impose—"

"But I can probably—"

"Don't even worry about it, Booth—"

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. I'll call you Monday."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I am."

"Talk to you then, Bones."

"Yeah. Bye."

She hung up in a hurry and looked to find Sully giving her a very stern look. "He has Parker for the weekend," she said in her defense.

"You didn't try very hard."

"He never gets time with his son. I'm not going to take any of that time away from him, Sully. Parker is the most important thing in Booth's life," Brennan explained.

"Except for you," Sully said, like it was common knowledge.

"I don't know about that."

"Tempe," he said seriously. She looked at him. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Call him."

"Don't call him? I already did," she said, turning her head slightly and looking at him the like idiot he sounded like at the moment.

Sully took a deep, frustrated breath. "Don't hide from this. Don't let him get away, Tempe. Don't make excuses." He paused for clarity's sake. "Call him. Again."

Unsure why she was really doing so, though that rarely happened, Brennan followed Sully's instructions.

"Can't wait after all, huh Bones?" Booth answered on the first ring. He was still laughing, still distracted by playing with his son.

"I changed my mind," she lied.

"Alright," he said affably. "What is it then?"

"Could we meet sometime today or tomorrow? I know that you have Parker, but it's important." Her heart was beating unreasonably fast. It was just Booth she was talking to. But still, she could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"Absolutely," Booth agreed. "Anything for you, Bones. I'll just drop Parker off at one of his friend's houses for a while. I can meet whenever you want."

"The sooner the better," Brennan said, looking at Sully for confirmation. He gave her the 'you go, girl' pump of his fist with a huge smile on his face. Brennan smiled at his joy. Sometimes it was nice to have your own personal cheer squad.

"Do you want to meet at the diner in, say, forty-five minutes?" Booth suggested.

"Perfect," she said.

They said their general goodbyes, and the second she hung up, Sully wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up out of her chair and spinning her around. "We have a date!" he kept saying.

Somehow, Sully always managed to do the right thing by other people.

Hundreds of days later, he would surface momentarily to stand in the crowd, to admire them, to be happy for them. To toast to them. With a smile on his face. The grin of a good sport. A good loser.

Then he would ride off into the sunset, to god only knows where.

And they'd never see him again.

His next adventure was calling.


	22. XXII

The bell that signaled Brennan's entrance into the diner rang in her ears as she scanned the small restaurant for Booth. He, obviously, wasn't hard to find, sitting at their normal table. She approached slowly, carefully.

"Hey," she greeted as she sat across the table from him.

"Hey," he returned, though he didn't look her in the eyes. Brennan found it very unsettling. They spent a few moments in a sort-of, kind-of, but not really awkward silence.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked after they had ordered their food.

"Shoot," Booth said with a 'go ahead' motion.

"What was I supposed to do?"

"What do you mean?" Booth asked, lifting his head to finally look her in the eyes.

"I came back, and I told you that we should have just forgotten that this whole thing happened," she began. "Which is what I always would have done. But…"

"But then you told me the truth," Booth finished for her, nodding, the guilt slipping through his voice.

Brennan looked up at him, sad and accusing. "I thought that was what I was supposed to do. That's what Sweets was always pushing me to do. To stop compartmentalizing and see everything as a whole. It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Booth began cautiously. "How rational you were about everything was sometimes very frustrating."

"Being alone and maintaining myself, Booth…that's all I know. That's the only way I feel secure."

"But you can trust me, Bones," Booth said earnestly, trying again to make her see that.

"No, Booth, I can't. Because that's what I did. You gave me an ultimatum—"

"I did not," Booth argued.

"Yes, you did. You said that you knew I wouldn't change, and because of that you had to walk away even though you didn't want to."

Booth said nothing. She continued. "So I had the choice of either proving you right or wrong. I couldn't ask you to understand because your mind was already made up that it would never work so you wouldn't try. And then," she laughed humorlessly. "And_ then_ you asked me where the old Temperance Brennan was. Because you detested that side of me that you had never seen before. You told me to go back to what I was before and then you walked away."

Her anger and resentment was building up in her chest as she spoke, and once she was finished she spent a few breaths fuming in silence. "After that," she finished, "how do you expect me to trust you?"

"You _can_ trust me," he said again. She scoffed. "But you can't expect me to save you."

"Save me?"

"Rescue you. I can't do that."

"Why not? You save everyone else."

Booth shook his head. "Because you're different, Bones. Don't you get it? You're a warrior, not some prisoner who needs to be saved. And I know that you'll hate me if I treat you like the latter. Plus," he added, "it's yourself that you need saving from. From your own doubt. Your own past. Your own baggage. No one can deal with that but you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before you kissed me?"

"Because I didn't know it then."

"I'm mad at you for that," she said simply.

"Believe me, you're not the only one. I'm mad at me too." Cam is too. But we'll just leave that part out for now.

Brennan sighed. "I guess…I guess I can understand where you're coming from. I have…issues. But the way you left made me think that you didn't want anything to do with me the second you saw all of those issues rise to the surface."

Booth laughed, though he remained serious. "Bones." He looked her directly in her eyes. "I meant it when I said I love you. How quickly you doubt me."

"You do realize that you never actually said that, right? You said that you could, if I could return your feelings, but that I wouldn't, so you didn't."

"Here I was thinking you were the only one who said complicated things," he tried with a smile. Seeing it didn't work, he was serious again. "Can I have a do-over?"

"Here in the diner?" she asked incredulously.

"Why, do you have a better idea?"

"No, I just thought that you'd be the more romantic type. That you'd want a better setting."

"What could be better than our home away from our home away from home? It's a place we both love. So. Do I get a do-over?"

Brennan thought, very seriously, for a moment. "No," she finally answered.

Booth's face fell. "No?" he asked in disbelief.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I don't want you to say it like that magically makes everything better, Booth. Because it doesn't."

"But you know that it's true, don't you?" he asked, almost hurt. Did she really doubt him so much?

"You haven't exactly given me much reason to believe you," she said flatly, seconds away from crossing her arms, leaning back and going deadpan. But he caught her hand before she could.

"In the last few days I realize that I've let you down. I did everything wrong, out of order. But come on, Bones. Think about it. Have I really never given you a reason to believe that I love you?" he asked earnestly.

"Nothing comes to mind," she lied.

To Booth, that felt like a stab to the heart. It was proof that he had utterly and completely failed her, whether or not he was saving her or she was saving herself. He had thought that she would be sure of his commitment to her when he walked away, but her faith in him had been shaky to begin with. Walking away had destroyed it completely.

He hadn't even considered that as a possibility.

Damn it.


	23. XXIII

Booth, tired of being careful, tired of worrying about saying the right thing, went into rant-mode.

"How could you possibly think that, Bones? You are so unbelievably intelligent, and yet you can't _logically_ think though our relationship and see that I love you?" He seemed almost…angry. It was odd, considering the words he was using. "I have harbored these feelings for a very long time, and I haven't done anything about it because I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to scare you away. But it's not easy to contain. I can't believe that you can't think of a single thing that leads you to the conclusion that I love you."

"I'm sorry," she said in all sincerity.

" 'I'm sorry' doesn't cut it, Bones. This is five years of being together we're talking about here and you're basically telling me that none of it meant anything to you," he snapped. The people at the table behind Booth turned slightly, listening in. "I took a bullet for you."

"I know—"

"I've saved your life more than once," he interrupted her.

"Booth—"

"I've risked everything to protect you."

"Would you just—"

"I've killed for you," he finished sadly, confused, unable to understand how that didn't matter to her.

Brennan stopped trying to talk. She knew full well that that was the biggest one for him. The most important. The most painful. So he deserved a good answer. She didn't have one, but she tried anyway. "I always thought of that as you…just being you. The alpha male. The protector. I…I thought you'd do that for anyone."

Booth thought for a moment. "That's…true. It just…it means something…different to me," he said, struggling to find his words.

"How so?" she asked, truly interested. Her interest bothered him. It seemed so objective. But why should he ever expect anything less from her?

"When I'm protecting victims, my country, civilians, my colleagues, even my friends, it's all about saving their lives. Keeping them safe," Booth began. "I think about their families, their children, the lives they still need to live for those people."

Brennan nodded, following.

"But with you, Bones," Booth continued with a slightly pained smile. "It's still about you, about the life you have left to live…of course it's still about that…but the only thoughts that ever go through my mind when you're in danger are selfish thoughts. I focus on you and in the back on my mind I'm telling myself that I _have_ to save you…or else someone else is going to have to save me, you know?"

Brennan shook her head slightly. "You've lost me."

Booth tried again, leaning farther forward across the table that separated them. "Protecting you is different because if anything happens to you, I'm the one who suffers, not a theoretical family in the back of my head. It's real, the pain of losing you. And even when I talk about it, even just thinking about it, I feel like…like I can't breathe. Like I don't _want_ to breathe until I know for a fact that you're safe."

There was a long moment while Brennan thought about that.

Booth tried to lighten the moment. "You've been in danger too much. I've had way too much time to think about this," he said with a forced laugh.

"So, normally," Brennan began thoughtfully, ignoring his last comment, "protecting people is an act of duty, whether that be patriotic, civil, or personal—"

"—mostly just a human duty, Bones," he good-naturedly corrected her.

"Okay, so it's an act of duty to your fellow man, but with me, you consider it an act of love."

"Yes," Booth agreed. "Don't you?"

"It makes sense," Brennan said, accepting it rationally and taking it in stride as she always did. "I still don't understand why you turned your back on me, though."

He sighed. "Bones, I messed up, okay? I had no idea that you didn't understand the depth of my feelings for you. I asked you where the old Doctor Brennan was because I was…I was trying to remind you of your own strength. The strength that I love," he tried to explain.

But again, Brennan was having none of it. "As someone who has been repeatedly abandoned by those who claim to love me, Booth, you _must_ have realized what you walking away the second I was trying my very hardest to open myself up would mean to me. You must have seen that."

"But you weren't trying you hardest. That was my point. You were asking me to carry you, to do everything for you. I know that you have issues, Bones, but you can't just go limp on me and expect me to carry you through the battle."

"Could you _please_ be _consistent_?" she asked him, suddenly angry.

"What?" Booth asked, thrown by her sudden outburst.

"You just said that protecting me and saving me was an act of love and now you're saying that you won't carry me through a fight. Pick one."

"Physically, Bones, I would carry you forever and I would kill anyone who tried to keep me from doing so," he said slowly, making sure she was listening and understanding. "But emotionally…it's different. In this battle there is no real danger."

"It feels like there is," she muttered.

"No real danger we could die from," he amended.

Brennan sighed. "Is this always this difficult?"

Booth, understanding what she was asking, answered with a laugh. "Only you and me, Bones. We're special."

"I don't want to be special anymore," she nearly pouted. "It's too complicated and there's far too much psychology involved."

"Sorry, Bones," Booth said with an apologetic smile. "It's something I can't change."

Brennan sighed again, and took another moment to think. "So I'm supposed to go and figure out how to…" The words failed her. "I have to stop rationalizing and figure out the psychological answers to my questions."

"They can be whatever kind of answers you want them to be," he said, laughing at the distain the word "psychological" had dripped with.

"Will you still be here when I get back?" she asked, serious.

"Every step of the way, if you want me to be."

"I really, really do," she admitted.

Booth smiled and extended his hand, not as a hand to shake, but palm-up on the table for her to take. "Partners?" he offered.

"Absolutely," she answered, putting her hand in his.

Their food came then, but their hands did not move. The table behind Booth turned away, uninterested. The fight was over.

The world resumed, with one huge difference: Neither of them could stop smiling.


	24. XXIV

The names of past lovers crossed their minds and felt the need to pass through their lips, but they held their tongues, not eager to ruin a newfound happiness only seconds after it appeared.

Each, oblivious to the other's guilt, did their best to hide what ate slowly away at them. Admittedly, Brennan had more to hide, but Booth was, after all, the champion of feeling guilty.

Nevertheless, it didn't spoil the moment from the outside. They were smiling, genuinely. Without a clue how it would all play out, they only had hopes for the best.

Hundreds of days later, they would look back on this moment and be ashamed of it. They pitied their past selves, really.

Later, Sweets would call it a fraud situation.

But now, it was a tender moment when the world seemed to resume. They breathed easy, unaware of the storm brewing on the horizon.

It didn't seem fair, really. The sky had only just cleared.


	25. XXV

Booth set his napkin down on the table apologetically. "I have to go," he said, torn between her and his son. "I didn't know how long you'd want to talk, so…"

Brennan waved him off with a smile. "I completely understand, Booth. This was a last minute thing. Say hi to Parker for me."

Booth stood with a thankful smile. He pulled out his wallet and set a few bills on the table, simultaneously leaning forward to kiss Brennan on the cheek. The action sent a thrill through both of them, though it was a relatively platonic gesture.

"I'll call you tomorrow," he promised.

Brennan watched him leave with a smile on her face. She felt at peace, though she had a lot of work to do. And this kind of work she wasn't used to. But he had given her an assignment, and she had always been very good about getting them done in a timely manner. There was no better time to start than now.

Setting a few bills of her own on the table, she stood and slowly left the diner. She was not in a hurry. Had nowhere to be besides in her own head.

XXXXX

Sully was sitting in her living room listening to music when she finally got home. He had been waiting for her. He stood when he heard her enter. "So?" he asked hopefully. "How'd it go?"

Brennan said nothing, instead dropping her things and rushing over to Sully and hugging him before he could get a look at her face to gauge her emotions.

"Oh," he laughed, surprised. He was hesitant to hug her back, but did so anyway. "This is either really good or really bad."

She pulled back and Sully saw the smile. The stupid grin. Aha. Good. "Thank you."

Sully returned the grin and hugged her again. "You're welcome, Tempe." They plopped down on the couch and Brennan was still smiling. "So?" he asked again. "You got any juicy details for me?"

"We just…talked. Really talked."

"Talking is good."

"We fought. A little."

"Sometimes fighting is good too," Sully added, trying to be encouraging. "Really."

"I have a lot to think about," she sighed.

"Booth assigned you a little soul-searching, didn't he?" Sully asked knowingly. He had understood Booth's side of the argument from the beginning, though it wasn't foolproof. Sully knew what he would have done in the situation.

"That makes it sound so…soft," she complained.

"How did Booth say it, then?"

"I have to find the answers to my questions, the solutions to my problems. Which I'm normally good at."

"…when it's not feeling-related," Sully clarified for her.

Brennan deflated a little. "This is going to be hard."

"You'll do fine," he assured her. "You've conquered harder equations, I promise," he teased her, nudging her shoulder. "But…you _do_ have a lot of thinking to do, so…I'm going to go, okay?"

"Are you sure?" she asked, sitting up a little, trying to hide the fact that she did, indeed, want to be alone.

"Don't worry, Tempe," he said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. This one felt exactly as platonic as it was. "You're not the only person I know and need to catch up with in DC."

She smiled. "I forget that. But I'll see you later?"

"Absolutely." He opened the door to let himself out. He turned around to reassure her once more. "You'll figure it out. You always do."

And then she was alone.

It was odd, how little Sully's absence affected her. Almost in the same way that she had felt it so little when he had sailed away to begin with. She wasn't by any means glad that he was gone, but she wasn't hindered by his absence either. _Which is the way it should be_, the old Brennan hissed at her.

But the new Brennan (the one who was about to beat the old, protected Brennan to a bloody pulp) found it easy to ignore the insistence.

Take that, bitch.

Being affected—really affected—by another person's presence, absence, actions, thoughts was one of the scariest things she had ever done. But when she let Booth affect her, it changed her. Made her better. Happier.

But the risk for that happiness was great. She knew that better than anyone.

**Day 5**

Booth didn't call, though he had promised.

**Day 6**

He didn't drop by the lab. Didn't call her.

**Day 7**

He didn't answer her worried phone calls.

Nothing could have happened to him. She would have known if something horrible had happened. She would have felt it. She would have known, though she normally wasn't intuitive. But it was Booth. She would have known.

His absence affected her, just like she had wanted it to. It was awful. The old Brennan was standing at the ready, just waiting to put that shell around her again. The instinct to protect herself was overwhelming. But she ignored it, because Booth was worth it. Worth being hurt.

**Day 8**

Wednesday she had had enough. She took an early day off from the lab and drove to his office, her heart twisting in knots the whole drive there. She tried to tell herself to breathe easy. He was fine. There was a reason he had seemed to disappear. It was fine. He was fine. She was fine.

Seeing him at his desk confused her. If he was there…why hadn't he answered her calls? Why hadn't he called her? She felt a slight sting of rejection, though the new Brennan told her it was ridiculous. It was Booth. He loved her. There must be a reason.

And oh, how there was.

Booth, having held his heavy head in his hands, looked up as she let herself into his office. His expression confused her further.

"Hey," she greeted. "Where have you been? You said you'd call."

But he shook his head slowly, smiling a pained smile, laughing an ironic laugh, like her presence proved something painfully funny to him.

"What?" she asked.

"Get out," he said, a hint of the smile still on his lips, hiding what really resided there.

"What?" she asked again, this time disbelieving. "Why?"

"Get out," he said again, more firmly.

He said it like it was easy for him.

Like she deserved it.


	26. XXVI

"Get out?" she repeated, not comprehending.

"Please," he added, but it was forced.

"What did I do?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Bones. Get out."

"What happened to every step of the way, Booth? What happened to not having reason to doubt that you love me?"

"Please, Bones. Go." Softer this time. Sadder.

She went, angry, confused. But she turned around as she walked out the door. "And you really expect me to trust you?"

It was a rhetorical question and Booth understood it as such.

XXXXX

The silence could go on forever for all she cared.

She thought they had had everything settled. She thought that her finding the answers would solve all their problems. But that was only the half of it. This whole ordeal was two sided.

And he kept breaking his promises to her. It hurt.

Booth was supposed to be the one who did everything correctly in this realm swimming with the weakness of human emotions. He was supposed to be the strong one. The noble one. The hero. But he was letting her drown.

Watching her drown.

Smiling, like it was somehow funny.

Like she deserved it.

And she didn't know why.


	27. XXVII

It was odd, that such a great guy could cause so much trouble. It was also odd that someone who could disappear so easily could find the perfectly wrong times to show himself.

**Day 4**

Parker had asked about Doctor Brennan when Booth had picked him up from his friend's house. Booth had given him the kid-version. Doctor Brennan was a busy lady. She had a lot to think about, a lot to do. But Parker had been insistent. He liked Doctor Brennan. He hadn't seen her in a really long time.

Booth gave in, eager to have an excuse to see her again. Anxious to see if she'd made any progress toward him and the happiness he wanted to offer her. It had only been an hour at most, but he could hope, right?

They had pulled into the lot the second he walked out the door.

Booth knew that it was completely possible that Sully had just dropped by within the last hour. It was what he wanted to believe. But there was a jealous side to him. An angry side.

"Doctor Brennan can't see us right now, Buddy," he had told Parker. Parker was unhappy, and asked the never ending string of whys. But Booth, hiding his anger, his jealousy, the pain, didn't answer him. Couldn't answer him.

XXXXX

It was none of Cam's business.

She sat alone in her apartment, carrying a burden that was not her own and not hers to reveal. She sat alone in her apartment with a heavy heart, worried about the mess that could ensue if she said nothing. Worrying abut the mess that would ensue if she got involved. She sat alone in her apartment with a heavy heart and a racing mind, making decisions and finding solutions for them like the boss she couldn't help but being.

Thinking over everything.

Searching for anything.

Saying nothing.

And then he called. Asked a simple question.

She told him what she knew and let him draw his own conclusions. It seemed like they both came to the same answer, but she couldn't be sure.

**Day 8**

Booth was angry at her for acting like she had done nothing wrong. He was angry that she had kept Sully's presence from him and played the victim when he was mad and hurt because of it. He had thought they were making progress. He had thought _she_ was making progress.

He paced the length of his office horizontally, vertically, diagonally. Horizontally, vertically, diagonally. Over and over.

He wanted her back. He wanted her here. He wanted to hold her and kiss her and beg her to forgive him for being so angry. So jealous. He wanted to forgive her. But blinded by jealousy and disappointment, he simply couldn't. He felt betrayed and lied to and used and stupid and let down and broken hearted and he boiled with anger and hatred and love all at once.

No woman had ever made him _feel_ so much.

This was supposed to have been easy. They were made for each other, meant for each other.

But they were, after all, only human. Mistake-making, stupid, jealous, greedy humans.

XXXXX

She had found comfort in the silence of her office. Her mind raced twice as fast as the lab she neglected beyond her office doors.

The sadness was the worst part, the hardest part. It was like a cloud over all her senses and her inability to see through it was both exhausting and disheartening. Too often during the hours of silence in her office she felt like giving up. But it was Booth. And he was worth it, whether or not he kept his promises to her.

The numerous visits and hesitations to knock at her office door did not go unnoticed. Angela twice, Hodgins once, Cam three times. But she didn't acknowledge them, because no one ever got around to the knocking part.

It was probably one of the most unproductive days she had spent sitting in her office since she began working at the Jeffersonian. She packed up her things at five and went home without a word to anyone.

She got home, throwing her keys on the table and hoping to find something to distract her. She sat heavily down on her couch with a huge sigh.

And then it hit her.

Oh my god.

For someone so smart, she could be very, very stupid.

XXXXX

Now that Parker was back with Rebecca for the week, Booth had no reason to control himself when he was at home. Every day that week, he had slammed doors unnecessarily, yelled incredibly loudly at hockey games on TV, and tried to find violent outlets for every impulse he had.

But today the urge to throw things didn't control him. Today it was the urge to drink.

He was pouring his second glass of scotch when the knock came at his door. He moved slowly, in no hurry to answer it. He wasn't completely shocked by who he found behind the door.

The shocking part was that she was _crying_.

"Can I come in?" Brennan asked meekly, trying to hide the tears. "Please?" she added, almost desperately.

He stepped to the side to let her in, though he didn't speak. She rushed past him, then turned to face him as he shut the door. It seemed clear that she wanted to speak her piece. He allowed her to with his absolute silence.

"I made a mistake, Booth," she said quickly, breathing hard, like it was painful to say. "And I didn't even realize what I had done. That's the worst part. You had the right to be angry, and I didn't see that. I'm so sorry."

Still, he said nothing.

"I should have just told Sully to leave. I know that. But he was so understanding and he's such a great guy…" she faltered, seeing the anger that flashed across Booth's face at her words. She tried again. "What I did was wrong, and I'm sorry."

"I could have loved you," he said to break his silence.

The past tense was like a wrecking ball to her chest. No. Please, no.

The tears she had shed on her way to see him came back as she considered the possibility that this was the kind of betrayal that Booth simply could not forgive. She turned away from him, the sobs dying to break through. It was so weak, so pathetic. But it was _Booth_ she was losing. He was worth the tears.

"You knew how I felt, Bones," he said softly to her back, his voice going husky as he said her name. "How could you do that, knowing what it would do to me? Did you think I'd never find out?"

"You…you were being confusing and I didn't know what to think," she tried as a reason. "It was never so complicated with Sully."

"So that makes it okay for you to go and sleep with him the day he comes back into your life? Just pick it back up where you left off because he's _simple_?" Booth was angry, confused.

But Brennan was taken back. "You think I had sex with him?"

"Didn't you?"

"No, Booth, I didn't," she confirmed. It was her turn to be angry. "I didn't sleep with him. I kissed him. And I feel horrible about it."

There was a moment of silence.

"How could you think that I had slept with him after what I've been through with you in the last few days, Booth?" she asked. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

"I…I don't know," Booth said, still reeling with relief. Still slightly angry.

"He was the one who made me go and talk to you that morning. After I told him about everything that had been going on."

"Was that before or after you kissed him? Or did he kiss you?"

"After. And both."

Booth welled with rage at that, but tried his hardest to contain it. He realized he didn't have the right to be angry. He would have done the same. He had tried to do the same. And now was the time to tell her.

"I tried to kiss Cam."

"What?" Brennan asked, shocked. "When?"

"The same night you were with Sully."

"But you didn't," Brennan said, seeming almost ashamed that he had had self control and she hadn't.

Booth smiled a sad smile. "I would have. I tried. But she stopped me."

Brennan sat on his couch and he rested on the arm. "Wow," she said.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he tried, for the lack of something more sincere to say. "I wish there were a better, more powerful way to say that. But it's true."

"I know," she said gently. "I'm sorry too. More than sorry."

Booth slid down off the arm to sit next to her. She didn't look at him, and he put a finger under her chin to turn her head gently towards him.

Without speaking, he kissed her, very softly. But it was short. They both pulled away before either was satisfied.

Brennan smiled, sad and small. "I'm sorry that you love me."

He stayed close to her face, wanting more. "Why the hell would you be sorry for that?" he whispered.

"I'm difficult."

He laughed warmly. "And I'm patient."

She got up, slowly, cautiously. "I should go." He stood up to, understanding. But before she went, she had to be honest with him. Completely honest. "I'm upset that you wanted to kiss Cam," she told him.

Booth nodded. "So am I. So was she. She lectured me and told me I'm a better man than that."

"She was right."

"I hope so."

Brennan sighed, the heavy emptiness still in her chest despite telling him that. There must be something else. She thought for a moment. "Can you forgive me?" she asked.

Booth nodded. "I can. I do."

She was relieved, but there was something else. "Do you still love me, Booth?"

He hesitated. She braced herself.


	28. XXVIII

"I'm not going to answer that," he finally said.

"Why not?" she asked, not offended, not sad, just…curious.

"Because I have a petty streak in me, Bones."

She looked at him apologetically.

"You don't know what that means," he said for her, sighing in preparation. "Bones, you know I would do anything for you. You are one of the most important people in my life, and I care about you more than I'd like to admit some days. Most days, though, I want nothing more than to tell you exactly how much that is."

"What does that have to do with being petty?" she asked.

"This whole mess started because I told you that I couldn't love you until you loved me back, and because I thought you weren't going to try, I didn't let myself say it. Now, it turns out I was wrong about that first part," he said, smiling at her and touching her shoulder affectionately. "You _are_ trying, I can see that."

"I am," she stressed, though a little saddened that trying took so much effort on her part.

"You are," he agreed softly. "And just that means the world to me."

"So how does that make you petty?" she asked again.

"Because, even though I was wrong, I'm still not going to say it. Not until you can say it back."

"Is it still true even if you don't want to say it?" she asked, thinking hard.

"If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Of course it does," she answered, thinking of the physics of it rather than how it related to what Booth was trying to say. "The sound waves have nothing to do with the presence of humans."

"And my feelings have nothing to do with what I do and don't say," he said, connecting the dots for her. "I've kept my mouth shut for a long time now. Doesn't mean the feelings aren't there just because the words aren't."

She thought about that for a minute, and then nodded, accepting his explanation. "I believe you." They stood there for a moment, each wanting nothing more than to take the other into their arms, neither making a move. "I need to go," she finally reminded both of them.

"You don't have to, Bones. You can stay here if you want," he offered.

She hesitated, wanting so badly to stay. But part of her felt like she needed it, so she couldn't let herself. "Thanks, Booth, but I don't think that's a good idea," she said, turning towards the front door again. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I'll swing by," he answered, trying to sound casual about what was bound to be the highlight of his day. It always had been before.

She opened the door to leave and she seemed to be moving so slowly it was painful. She must have wanted to stay. Booth had to give her one last chance. He joined her in the doorway. "Bones…" he began.

She looked up at him, big eyes, mouth half open. Being so close to her, he could smell her shampoo. Or whatever it was that made her smell so nice. Maybe it was just naturally how she smelled. He wouldn't put it past her.

He wanted nothing more than for her to stay. "You can stay," he told her again.

"I know," she said simply, not breaking their eye contact. "But I shouldn't."

"I'm not going to try anything, Bones. I won't even kiss you anymore if you don't w—"

She had stood up on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

"—or I _can_, if you want me to," he amended a little breathlessly.

Brennan smiled, almost as softly as she had kissed him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She left him in the doorway as she walked silently down the corridor, the taste of him still lingering on her lips.

One more tear for him silently slid down her cheek.

She knew it wouldn't be the last, but she was willing to accept that.

Because he was worth it.


	29. XXIX

She did see him the next day. He came to her with a new case. They worked it like every other, the occasional tender moment brushing over and off of them during the quiet moments of the day.

For a hundred more days they worked new cases. They lived and breathed the tender moments that didn't happen often enough. He'd wrap her in his arms when she was upset by something. She'd sit next to him and touch his face softly, reminding him she was there for him when the case got him down.

They'd bicker and they'd argue and they'd be themselves, of course, for the most part. But sometimes, every so often…one of them would lean in and kiss the other. It was always soft, always sweet, always short, always incredibly reserved. But it happened. It was a reminder of what they knew they had, would have, would always have.

And though, at the end of each day for a hundred days, they were each left wanting more, they knew it wouldn't be like this forever.

XXXXX

Brennan learned how to cry for herself. She had learned long ago to cry for others, but the hundred days she spent going home alone with the man she loved on her mind and only occasionally on her lips, she learned how to cry for the injustices done to her as a teenager and the hell she'd been through ever since. She learned to cry in sheer frustration with him and she learned to cry over the constantly renewed realization that he loved her more than she thought she deserved.

It was odd, and didn't make sense to her, that the act of baring that weakness actually felt like it was making her stronger. She had yet to cry in front of anyone but her mirror, but the fact that she let those emotions well up and they _didn't _kill her made her feel strong. Powerful. And it gave her hope.

During the day, she experimented with letting some of those emotions slip through. At first only to Booth because she knew she could trust him.

"_I miss my mother,"_ she had said one day after a comfortable silence had taken over his car as they drove to a crime scene. He had asked her about why, and what her mother was like again, and she talked about it. And it didn't kill her.

Sharing more about herself happened more and more as self-assigned homework until it was somewhere near comfortable. She sifted through all of her crap in the evenings when she went home alone. She spent sleepless nights thinking about him. Dreaming without sleeping. Too afraid to sleep. To tired to sleep.

XXXXX

Booth did his best to be patient. Sometimes he couldn't help himself, and let himself lean forward and kiss her, but he tried to hold back the urge the majority of the time. He had to wait until she was ready.

What he also had to face, though, was the possibility that she wouldn't choose him when she was emotionally ready for commitment. It didn't seem likely, as there were no other men she'd give the time of day, but he had to consider it. Had to remember to give her the choice. Remind her that she could have anyone she chose. She didn't have to settle for him.

But then, of course, there were the moments when she would smile at him and her eyes would sparkle and she'd kiss him briefly. She'd thank him out of the blue, and he knew it was for waiting. For being patient. Or at least giving the impression of being patient. Enough so that she could believe that she could do this in her own time.

Because, strictly speaking, she could. It wasn't like he had a say in the matter. If she took fifty years, he'd wait fifty years. It wasn't like he had another option that wasn't completely repulsive to consider.

XXXXX

**Day 114**

It was a Thursday.

They had solved the case on Tuesday, and for some reason she was standing in the doorway to his office with nothing in her hands to give him, to give up as a reason for being there.

But he saw it.

He stood, unable to repress the swell of hope brought on by the way she just stood there.

She looked…free.

She smiled at him, the distance of his office still separating them.

"I'm in love with you, Booth."

It took him half a second to cross his office and wrap his arms around her with the strength he seemed to have been saving for the last hundred and six days.

She laughed in surprise, in joy, in freedom. She kissed his cheek because it was all she could reach. He crushed her harder against him, unable her hold her close enough. Her words rang in his ears until he finally managed to let her go. He studied her face, searching for conflict, for anything to warn him that she wasn't ready. But she just looked back, a smile on her lips and a laugh in her eyes. She looked so incredibly happy.

And then she said it again, if only because she liked the sound of it. "I love you, Seeley Booth."

Oh, he could die a happy man.

"Bones…" he began. Somehow, though he'd waited a hundred and six days for this moment, and even longer for something like it, he couldn't bring himself to formulate a coherent sentence. He brought her face in his hands, running his thumbs over the cheekbones that were surprisingly free of tears.

He was in shock. Or awe. Or something.

She touched one finger to his lips. "Do you want to kiss me now?"

His eyes flickered to the glass wall behind her and the curious agents casting hidden glances their way, and then back to her. He still held her face firmly in her hands, and brought her forward to plant a kiss on her forehead.

She felt small as he held her in his hands. Short, as he kissed her forehead. Young, as she smiled stupidly and blushed out of his view. Happy, because she wasn't scared.

He still couldn't say anything as her crushed her against his chest again. She let him have the silence. She knew he loved her. He didn't have to say it to make her feel secure. _He_ made her feel secure.


	30. XXX

_Hello. Sorry if this comes as a surprise, but this is the last chapter! 30 is a nice even number to end on, so I made it a little longer to include what I wanted. Thank you, everyone, for reading and reviewing. _

_Please drop me one last line there at the end. This is the longest story chapter-wise I've ever written and I did it in less than two months, which was a big change for me. Let me know what you thought. Thanks again for reading._

_Enjoy. -JF_

**Day 194 **

She still didn't understand certain things. She was still slightly awkward and very opinionated. She was still rational. She was still frustratingly brilliant.

They were still equals. Partners, as they were in everything.

As Brennan lulled pleasantly between the realms of consciousness and dreaming, she felt his arm lazily draped over her side.

That was the difference.

She rolled over, into his sleeping form. She burrowed her way between his arms and laid her head eye-level with his. She watched him, waiting for him to wake up.

He _hated_ it when she did this. She knew that all too well. She still thought it was funny.

Unsure how much time was passing, she waited, still not completely out of the dream world herself. The sun shone in through the window on his side of the bed and the world of late Saturday mornings continued outside without them.

Brennan loved the fact that she felt no pressing need to be at the Lab. Not today, anyway.

"JESUS, Bones!" Booth gasped the moment he had woken up. Her laugher rang throughout her apartment. "Don't _do_ that!"

Brennan rolled on top of him and kissed him sweetly. "Good morning," she sang in response.

"Good morning," he grumbled. "Oh woman I love so dearly."

"Guess what," she said, kissing him again. He didn't kiss her back, still irritated with her and that creepy thing she did that she thought was oh-so-hilarious.

"What."

"You have to guess."

"I don't want to, Bones. Just tell me."

She sat up straight, still straddling him. She looked a little confused. "Are you mad at me?"

Booth sighed, his hands resting on her thighs. "No, Bones, I'm not mad at you. But you know that I hate it when you do that."

"But it's funny," she said sadly in her defense.

"Yeah, for _you_."

"Should I stop?"

"Yes please."

Brennan leaned forward again, folding her arms across his chest and resting her chin on her arms. "What do you want to do today?" she asked.

Booth finally smiled. "I'm comfy here."

"But it's a beautiful day outside."

"So?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair. "We've already slept most of it away anyway. And it will probably be a beautiful day tomorrow, too," he reasoned with her.

She sighed in resignation. Booth reached up and kissed her, slowly rolling her over onto her back. They didn't leave the house all day.

XXXXX

**Day 206**

Booth sauntered into her office. Thursday night was always date night for them. His shirt collar was unbuttoned, his slacks low on his hips as he leaned against the doorway as she packed up her things. She had dressed up for him, too, but she didn't notice him watching her.

She turned, unaware of his presence, to her office door and started at the sight of him. Her shock was wordless but he knew he had surprised her.

"See how creepy that is?" he asked with a smile as he walked towards her. "You look nice," he observed as he leaned forward to kiss her. "Mm, and you smell nice too."

"You like it?" she asked, pleased.

"Of course I like it. It's on you," he said kissing her neck where it smelled the most delicious. "I'd like skunk on you."

She laughed a sultry laugh that he could feel in her throat as he kissed her. "I'm fairly certain you wouldn't."

"You'd be like my camping-Bones," he said, pulling back and smiling at her, his arms still wrapped around her. "I won't shave or shower ever again and we can live in a one-room cabin and I'll hunt deer with my sniper rifle."

"You would enjoy that?" she asked, skeptical.

"Getting to shoot things without having to fill out a stack of paperwork every time would be a nice change. And do you think I _like_ wearing a suit every day?"

"_I_ like you wearing a suit every day," she said as she slipped out of his arms to pick up the rest of her things.

He just laughed at her, know exactly what she meant by that. "You're horrible."

"What? I'm just saying."

"Yeah, whatever Bones. Come on, we have to hurry," he urged her, holding out her jacket for her to slip into. He kissed her again once her jacket was on. "You really do smell very good, though."

"Nothing like skunk?"

"Absolutely nothing like skunk," he said with another laugh. "Come on." He put his arm around her and led her out of her office, smiling to himself. It was totally random, totally pointless, but these little conversations made him fall in love with her more and more each day.

XXXXX

"What do you think is the probability that we'll split up?" Brennan asked suddenly right after they got their food.

Booth, his mouth full, was startled by her question. "What? What do you mean? As partners?"

"No, of course not. Our success rate is too high for that. The FBI isn't _that_ stupid."

"Thanks, for that," he said sarcastically.

"No, I meant like this. As a couple." She was so straight-forward about it, it was off-putting. Booth took a second to remind himself that's why he loved her.

"Why?" he asked cautiously.

She hesitated. "Do you promise not to laugh?"

"Promise."

"I've been thinking about seeing other people—"

Booth nearly spat out his food. "Excuse me?" he asked, angry at the very suggestion of the idea.

"No, Booth, will you let me finish?"

"This had better be going somewhere good."

"I've been thinking about what it would be like to see other people at this point, and it occurred to me that I have absolutely no desire to date and/or have sex with anyone else."

"Why would I laugh at that? That is singularly not-funny."

"I said I _don't_ want to see other people."

"Still. The idea of it. I can't…don't say stuff like that."

Brennan's brow furrowed, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. "Do _you_ want to date other people?" she asked, trying to hide the hurt in her voice.

"What? No. God no. How could you even—No. Never." He had finally managed to swallow his food.

"Then I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"I just don't like the idea of anyone else, ever, touching you. Thinking about touching you. It bothered me before and it most certainly bothers me now," he explained.

"Why?" she asked, though they both knew she knew the answer already.

"Because I'm an alpha male and I'm very possessive. Protective. And rightfully so," he said almost darkly.

"What do you mean, 'rightfully so'?"

Booth leaned into her. "Because given the chance, any guy would love to get his hands on you."

"Because I'm beautiful and very good at sex," she stated. It was a fact they both knew all too well.

"Yes, and you're intelligent and wonderful and surprising. But you're mine."

Brennan sighed. "You can't just claim me, Booth."

Booth smiled wide, satisfied. "I didn't have to. _You_ decided that you were mine. All on your own, my brilliant and beautiful anthropologist." He leaned in and kissed her softly.

"I suppose I did. Which is what I was trying to say earlier."

"What's that?"

"That I could imagine myself being with you for the rest of my life…and being happy. Completely satisfied. With just you."

He smiled, leaning back in pride. "Then I'm glad we're on the same page."

"You want to be with me? Forever?"

"There has never been a doubt in my mind," he said seriously. "I'm madly in love with you, Bones. And that's never going to change."

Brennan smiled, thinking for a moment. "Would you like to get married?"

The question put Booth on guard. He knew her opinions on the subject, but still he couldn't help but answer honestly. "Of course I would. But I'm okay without it. I don't need you to marry me."

"But you want me to."

"Want you to what?"

"To marry you."

"If this were only about what I wanted, yes. But it's not. I get that."

"Well, we've established that we're not looking for anyone else."

"Yes…" Booth said slowly, trying to figure out where she was going with this.

"Then, if you want to get married, I'd be okay with that."

"What? Really?" he nearly choked in surprise.

"Yes."

Booth smiled wide. "Say it," he said, leaning forward again.

"Come on, Booth, really?"

He came incredibly close to her face, close enough that she could kiss him if she wanted, but when she tired, he pulled back slightly. "Say it." His warm breath danced across her face.

"Do you want me to get down on one knee?" she asked sarcastically.

"I won't require that." His breath and his lips teased her all the more.

"Seeley Booth, will you marry me?" she asked, dark and smoky.

He smiled, and got even closer. "Say it again."

"Marry me, Booth."

"If you insist," he said happily, closing the few centimeters between them and kissing her again.

XXXXX

**Day 272**

Champagne flutes clinked together as the guests laughed and celebrated, waiting for the newly married couple to arrive at the reception.

The couple sat in the limousine for a few minutes, not wanting to join the party before they had a small chance to celebrate themselves. But they were still them, so it shouldn't have been a surprise that they were arguing.

"I'm positive, Bones!" he was trying to convince her.

"Because I could have, if you really wanted me to."

"I know. I get it. But you don't have to. You're a best-selling author. You're a published scientist. You've gotta keep the last name._ I don't mind_," he stressed. Again.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!" he had told her so a hundred times when she had initially made the decision a few weeks ago. But she was till worried that it bothered him. "There's a ring on your finger, Bones. You're mine forever. And 'Doctor Temperance Booth' just sounds weird anyway."

She moved to sit herself in his lap, covering him with layers of white fabric and lace. "Doctor Temperance Brennan-Booth, forensic anthropologist," she said, kissing the side of his face multiple times. "Scientist, crime-fighter and wife."

"Mm," Booth nearly growled as she continued to kiss him. "I like the sound of that. The last one is my favorite."

"Is it?" she asked alluringly. "Dear husband?"

"That one's even better."

Brennan hurried off of him. "Come on. We have a party to get to."

"Reception."

"It's the same general idea of frivolity and celebration, right?"

"It's a wedding. So it's called a reception," he said as he followed her out of the limo. "It's better because we're married at this party."

They were greeted with applause as they stepped into the ballroom crowded with friends and family and co-workers and the people who fell into all three categories. They shook hands and kissed cheeks and smiled and accepted congratulations.

Occasionally, the glasses would all clink and they'd run at each other, landing in a comfortable kiss.

"…Bren and Booth have been dancing around each other for a long time, and while it frustrated me to no end then, I'm glad they waited. I'm so happy for you guys," Angela finished, the last to make a toast.

From across the room, Sully raised his glass to them, met both of their glances. He smiled. And then he was gone.

Cam sighed contentedly in her place at the wedding party table. Finally, the madness was behind them all.

Angela and Hodgins were already slightly tipsy, kissing, and laughing their asses off because of it. They hoped with all their hearts that Booth and Brennan would find the same happiness they had.

Sweets sat back with his arms folded across his chest, a stupid grin on his face.

They had all been right to leave them to flounder. It had been right to just sit back and watch, though at times it was difficult. But no one could have saved them. No one but the two of them could have gotten them to this point.

And they hadn't just survived. They now thrived.

Brennan and Booth didn't dance in the innocent joy of being in love, though. They celebrated in the sacrifices it took and the road they'd traveled to get there. They were aware of the prices they'd paid and the consequences they'd face.

Brennan looked up into her husband's eyes and kissed him for the fun of it. She smiled at him and her eyes sparkled with the knowledge that he was absolutely, one-hundred percent, completely hers. Even though the thought was redundant.

Booth kissed his wife in complete adoration. Sure, having her at all was wonderful, and having her commit to him like she had was mind-blowing…but marrying her was something he never thought he'd do. He'd wanted to, but it had always been an unreachable fantasy.

It had taken two hundred seventy-two days of unrest, but here they were.

Here she was, in his arms, married to him of her own volition, dressed in white at his request.

They knew it wasn't happily ever after. Neither of them believed in that.

But it was so very, very close.

_Fin._


End file.
